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JOHN  HENRY  NASH  LIBRARY 

<8>  SAN  FRANCISCO  <e> 

PRESENTED  TO  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

ROBERT  GORDON  SPROUL, PRESIDENT. 
<$>    BY"  "^ 

Mr.andMrs.MILTON  S.RAV 
CECILY.  VIRGINIA  AND  ROSALYN  RAY 

AND  THE 

RAY  OIL  BURNER  COMPANY 


SAN  FRANCISCO 
NEV/ YORK 


PEG    WOFFINGTON 


A  NOVEL. 


BY    CHARLES    EEADE, 

AITTHOR  OP   "  CHSISTIE  JOHNSTONE." 


BOSTON: 
TICKNOR    AND    FIELDS. 


M  DCCC  LXIV. 


GIFT 


lil,^ 


TO 

T.  TAYLOR.   ESQ., 

MY  FRIEND,  AND  COADJUTOR  IN  THE  COMEDY 

OP 

"MASKS    AND    FACES," 

TO  WHOM   THE   READER  OWES    MUCH   OF   THE  BEST   MATTER 
IN   THIS   TALE: 

AND  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  MARGARET  WOFFIJSTGTON, 
FALSELY  SWlnned  up  UNTIL  TO-DAY, 

THIS 

Bramalfc  Stjcj ' 

IS  INSCRIBED  BY 

CHARLES  READE. 


LONDON, 
DECEMBER,   15,    1852. 


220 


PEG    WOFFINGTON. 


CHAPTER    I. 

About  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  in  a  large  but  poor  apart- 
ment, a  man  was  slumbering  on  a  rough  couch. 
His  rusty  and  worn  suit  of  black  was  of  a  piece 
with  his  uncarpeted  room,  the  deal  table  of  home 
manufacture,  and  its  slim,  unsnufFed  candle. 

The  man  was  Triplet,  scene  painter,  actor,  and 
writer  of  sanguinary  plays,  in  which  what  ought 
to  be,  viz.,  truth,  plot,  situation,  and  dialogue, 
were  not ;  and  what  ought  not  to  be,  were  :  scil- 
icet, small  talk,  big  talk,  fops,  ruffians,  and 
ghosts. 

His  three  mediocrities  fell  so  short  of  one  tal- 
ent, that  he  was  sometimes  impransus. 

He  slumbered,   but  uneasily.      The    dramatic 

(5) 


b  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

author  was  uppermost,  and  his  "  Demon  of  the 
Hayloft  "  hung  upon  the  thi*ead  of  popular  favor. 

On  his  uneasy  slumber  entered  from  the  thea- 
tre Mrs.  Triplet. 

She  was  a  lady  who  in  one  respect  fell  beliind 
her  husband.  She  lacked  his  variety  in  ill-doing, 
but  she  recovered  herself  by  doing  her  one  thing 
a  shade  worse  than  he  did  any  of  his  three.  She 
was  what  is  called,  in  grim  sport,  an  actress ;  she 
had  just  cast  her  mite  of  discredit  on  royalty  by 
playing  the  Queen,  and  had  trundled  home  the 
moment  the  breath  was  out  of  her  royal  body 
She  came  in  rotatory  with  fatigue,  and  fell,  gris  • 
tie,  into  a  chair ;  she  wrenched  from  her  brow  a 
diadem,  and  eyed  it  with  contempt ;  took  from 
her  pocket  a  sausage,  and  contemplated  it  with 
respect  and  affection,  placed  it  in  a  fiying  pan  on 
the  fire,  and  entered  her  bed  room,  meaning  to 
don  a  loose  wrapper,  and  dethrone  herself  into 
comfort. 

But  the  poor  woman  was  shot  walking  by 
Morpheus,  and  subsided  altogether ;  for  dramatic 
performances,  amusing  and  exciting  to  youth 
seated  in  the  pit,  convey  a  certain  weariness  to 
those  bright  beings  who  sparkle  on  the  stage  for 
bread  and  cheese. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.     .  7 

Koyalty  disposed  of  still  left  its  trail  of  events. 
The  sausage  began  to  "  spit."  The  sound  was 
.lardly  out  of  its  body  when  poor  Triplet  writhed 
like  a  worm  on  a  hook.  "  Spitter,  spittest,"  went 
the  sausage.  Triplet  groaned,  and  at  last  his  in- 
articulate murmurs  became  words  :  "  That's 
right,  pit ;  now,  that  is  so  reasonable  to  condemn  a 
poor  fellow's  play  before  you  have  heard  it  out." 
Then,  with  a  change  of  tone,  "  Tom,"  muttered 
he,  "  they  are  losing  their  respect  for  spectres  ;  if 
they  do,  hunger  will  make  a  ghost  of  me." 
Next  he  fancied  the  clown,  or  somebody,  had  got 
into  his  ghost's  costume. 

"  Dear,"  said  the  poor  dreamer,  "  the  clown 
makes  a  very  pretty  spectre,  with  his  ghastly 
white  face,  and  his  blood-boltered  cheeks  and 
nose.  I  never  saw  the  fun  of  a  clown  before.  No, 
no,  no  !  it  is  not  the  clown  ;  it  is  worse,  much 
worse !  O  dear  !  ugh !  "  and  Triplet  rolled  off  the 
couch  like  Richard  the  Third.  He  sat  a  mo- 
ment on  the  floor  with  a  finger  in  each  eye  ;  and 
then,  finding  he  was  neither  daubing,  ranflng,  nor 
deluging  earth  with  "  acts,"  he  accused  him- 
self of  indolence,  and  sat  down  to  write  a  small 
tale  of  blood  and  bombast ;  he  took  his  seat  at  the 


8  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

deal  table  with  some  alacrity,  for  he  had  recently 
made  a  disco veiy. 

How  to  write  well.  Hen  que  cela, 

"  First,  think  in  as  homely  a  way  as  you  can  ; 
next,  shove  your  pen  under  the  thought,  and  lift 
it  by  polysyllables  to  the  true  level  of  fiction ;  " 
(when  done,  find  a  publisher,  if  you  can.) 
"  This,"  said  Triplet,  "  insures  common  sense  to 
your  ideas,  which  does  pretty  well  for  a  basis," 
said  Triplet,  apologetically,  "  and  elegance  to  the 
dress  they  wear."  Triplet  then,  casting  his  eyes 
round  in  search  of  such  actual  circumstances  as 
could  be  incorporated  on  this  plan  with  fiction, 
began  to  work  thus  :  — 

triplet's  facts.  triplet's  fiction. 

A  ferthing  dip  is  on  the         A  solitary  candle  cast  its 
table.  pale  gleams  around. 

It  wants  snuffing.  Its  elongated  wick  betrayed 

an  owner  steeped  in  obli\ion. 
He  jumped  up,  and  snuffed        He    rose     languidly,    and 
it  with  his   fingers ;   burned    trimmed  it  with  an  instrument 
his  finger^  and  swore  a  Httle.     that  he  had  by  his  side  for  that 

purpose,  and  muttered  a  si- 
lent ejaculation.    % 

Before,  however,  the  mole  Triplet  could  under- 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  9 

mine  literatui'e  and  level  it  -with  the  dust,  various 
interruptions  and  divisions  broke  in  upon  his  de- 
sign, and  sic  nos  servavit  Apollo.  As  lie  wrote 
the  last  sentence  a  loud  rap  came  to  his  door.  A 
servant  in  liverv  brouo^ht  him  a  note  from  Mr. 
Vane,  dated  Covent  Garden.  Triplet's  eyes  spar- 
kled ;  he  bustled,  wormed  himself  into  a  less 
rusty  coat,  and  started  off  to  the  Theatre  Royal, 
Covent  Garden. 

In  those  days  the  artists  of  the  pen  and  the 
brush  ferreted  patrons,  instead  of  aiming  to  be  in- 
dispensable to  the  public,  the  only  patron  worth 
a  single  gesture  of  the  quill. 

Mr.  Vane  had  conversed  with  Triplet,  that  is, 
let  Triplet  talk  to  him  in  a  coffee  house ;  and 
Triplet,  the  most  sanguine  of  unfortunate  men, 
had  already  built  a  series  of  expectations  upon 
that  interview,  when  this  note  arrived.  Leaving 
him  on  his  road  from  Lambeth  to  Covent  Gar- 
den, we  must  introduce  more  important  person- 
ages. 

Mr.  Vane  was  a  wealthy  gentleman  from 
Shropshire,  whom  business  had  called  to  London 
four  months  ago,  and  now  pleasure  detained. 
Business  still  occupied  the  letters  he  sent  now 


10  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

and  then  to  his  native  county  ;  but  it  had  ceased 
to  occupy  the  writer.  He  was  a  man  of  learn- 
ing and  taste,  as  times  went ;  and  his  love  of  the 
arts  had  taken  him  some  time  before  our  tale 
to  the  theatres,  then  the  resort  of  all  who  pre- 
tended to  taste  ;  and  it  was  thus  he  had  become 
fascinated  by  Mrs.  Woffington,  a  lady  of  great 
beauty,  and  a  comedian  high  in  favor  with  the 
town. 

The  first  night  he  saw  her  was  an  epoch  in  the 
history  of  this  gentleman's  mind.  He  had  learn- 
ing and  refinement,  and  he  had  not  great  practi- 
cal experience  ;  and  such  men  are  most  open  to 
impression  from  the  stage.  He  saw  a  being,  all 
grace  and  bright  nature,  move  like  a  goddess 
among  the  stiff  puppets  of  the  scene ;  her  glee 
and  her  pathos  were  equally  catching ;  she  held 
a  golden  key  at  which  all  the  doors  of  the  heart 
flew  open.  Her  face,  too,  was  as  full  of  good- 
ness as  intelligence  ;  it  was  like  no  other  face. 
The  heart  bounded  to  meet  it. 

He  rented  a  box  at  her  theatre.  He  was  there 
every  night  before  the  curtain  drew  up  ;  and,  I  am 
Borry  to  say,  he  at  last  took  half  a  dislike  to  Sun- 
day —  Sunday,  "  which  knits  up  the  ravelled  slave 


PEG    WOFFIXGTOI^.  II 

of  care  "  Sunday^  "  tired  Nature's  sweet  restorer/' 
because  on  Sunday  there  was  no  Peg  Woffington. 
At  first  lie  regarded  her  as  a  being  of  another 
sphere,  an  incarnation  of  poetry  and  art ;  but  by 
degrees  his  secret  a^irations  became  bolder. 
She  was  a  woman ;  there  were  men  who  knew 
her ;  some  of  them  inferior  to  him  in  position, 
and,  he  flattered  himself,  in  mind.  He  had  even 
heard  a  tale  against  her  character.  To  him  her 
face  was  its  confutation,  and  he  knew  how  loose- 
tongued  is  calumny  ;  but  still  —  ! 

At  last,  one  day,  he  sent  her  a  letter,  unsigned. 
This  letter  expressed  his  admiration  of  her  talent 
in  warm  but  respectful  terms.  The  writer  told 
her  it  had  become  necessary  to  his  heart  to  return 
her  in  some  way  his  thanks  for  the  land  of  en- 
chantment to  which  she  had  introduced  him. 
Soon  after  this  choice  flowers  found  their  way  to 
her  dressing  room  every  night,  and  now  and  then 
verses  and  precious  stones  mingled  with  her  roses 
and  eglantine.  And  O,  how  he  watched  the 
great  actress's  eye  all  the  night !  how  he  tried 
to  discover  whether  she  looked  oftener  towards 
his  box  than  the  corresponding  box  on  the  oth- 
er side  of  the  house  ! 


12  PEG     WOFFINGTON. 

Did  she  notice  him,  or  did  she  not  ?  What  a 
point  gained  if  she  was  conscious  of  his  nightly 
attendance !  She  would  feel  he  was  a  fiiend, 
not  a  mere  auditor.  He  was  jealous  of  the  pit, 
on  whom  Mrs.  Woffington  lavished  her  smiles 
without  measure. 

At  last,  one  day  he  sent  her  a  wreath  of 
flowers,  and  implored  her,  if  any  word-  he  had 
said  to  her  had  pleased  or  interested  her,  to  wear 
this  wreath  that  night.  After  he  had  done  this 
he  trembled ;  he  had  courted  a  decision,  when, 
perhaps,  his  safety  lay  in^  patience  and  time.  She 
made  her  entree ;  he  tui'ned  cold  as  she  glided 
into  sight  from  the  prompter's  side  ;  he  raised  his 
eyes  slowly  and  fearfully  from  her  feet  to  her 
head ;  her  head  was  bare,  wreathed  only  by  its 
own  rich,  glossy  honors.  "  Fool,"  thought  he, 
"  to  think  she  woidd  hang  fidvoHties  upon  that 
glorious  head  for  me."  Yet  his  disappointment 
told  him  he  had  really  hoped  it.  He  would  not 
have  sat  out  the  play  but  for  a  leaden  incapacity 
of  motion  that  seized  him. 

The  curtain -di-ew  up  for  the  fifth  act,  and  — 
could  he  believe  his  eyes  ?  —  Mrs.  Woffington 
stood  upon  the  stage  with  his  wreath  upon  her 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  13 

graceful  head.  She  took  away  his  breath.  She 
spoke  the  epilogue,  and  as  the  curtain  fell,  she 
lifted  her  eyes,  he  thought,  to  his  box,  and  made 
him  a  distinct,  queen-Kke  courtesy.  His  heart 
fluttered  to  his  mouth,  and  he  walked  home  on 
wings  and  tiptoe.     In  short  — 

Mrs.  Woffington,  as  an  actress,  justified  a  por- 
tion of  this  enthusiasm.  She  was  one  of  the 
truest  artists  of  her  day  ;  a  fine  lady  in  her  hands 
was  a  lady,  with  the  genteel  afiectation  of  a  gen- 
tlewoman, not  a  harlot's  affectation,  which  is  sim- 
ply and  without  exaggeration  what  the  stage  com- 
monly gives  us  for  a  fine  lady  ;  an  old  woman  in 
her  hands  was  a  thorough  woman,  thoroughly 
old,  not  a  cackling  young  person  of  epicene  gen- 
der. She  played  Sir  Harry  Wildair  Hke  a  man, 
which  is  how  he  ought  to  be  played,  (or,  which 
is  better  still,  not  at  all,)  so  that  Garrick  acknowl- 
edged her  as  a  male  rival,  and  abandoned  the  part 
he  no  longer  monopolized. 

Now,  it  very,  very  rarely  happens  that  a  wo- 
man of  her  age  is  high  enough  in  art  and  knowl- 
edge to  do  these  things.  In  players,  vanity  crip- 
ples art  at  every  step.  The  young  actress  who  is 
not   a  "Woffington   aims   to    display   herself   by 


14  PEG    WOFFIXGTON. 

means  of  her  part,  which  is  vanity  ;  not  to  raise 
her  part  by  sinking  herself  in  it,  which  is  art.     It 

has  been  my  misfortune  to  see ,  and , 

and  ,  and  ,  et  ceteras,  play  the  man ; 

nature,  forgive  them  if  you  can,  for  art  never 
will ;  they  never  reached  any  idea  more  manly 
than  a  steady  resolve  to  exhibit  the  points  of  a 
woman  with  greater  ferocity  than  they  could  in  a 
gown.  But  consider,  ladies,  a  man  is  not  the 
meanest  of  the  brute  creation  ;  so  how  can  he 
be  an  unwomanly  female.  This  sort  of  actress 
aims  not  to  give  her  author's  creation  to  the 
public,  but  to  trot  out  the  person  instead  of  the 
creation,  and  show  sots  what  a  calf  it  has  — 
and  is. 

Vanity,  vanity !  all  is  vanity  !  Mesdames  les 
Charlatanes. 

Margaret  "Woffington  was  of  another  mould. 
She  played  the  ladies  of  high  comedy  with  grace, 
distinction,  and  delicacy.  But  in  Sir  Harry 
"Wildair  she  parted  with  a  woman's  mincing  foot 
and  tongue,  and  played  the  man  in  a  style  large, 
spirited,  and  elance.  As  Mrs.  Day,  (committee,) 
she  painted  wrinkles  on  her  lovely  face  so  hon- 
estly, that  she  was  taken  for  tkreescore ;  and  she 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  15 

carried  out  the  design  with,  voice  and  person,  and 
did  a  vulgar  old  woman  to  the  life.  She  disfig- 
ured her  own  beauties  to  show  the  beauty  of 
her  art ;  in  a  word,  she  was  an  artist.  It  does 
not  follow  she  was  the  greatest  artist  that  ever 
breathed  ;  far  firom  it.  Mr.  Vane  was  carried  to 
this  notion  by  passion  and  ignorance. 

On  the  evening  of  our  tale  he  was  at  his  post, 
patiently  sitting  out  one  of  these  sanguinary  dis- 
courses our  rude  forefathers  thought  were  tragic 
plays,  Sedet  cBternumque  Sedebit  Infelicc  The- 
seus, because  Mrs.  Woffington  is  to  speak  the 
epHogue. 

These  epilogues  were  curiosities  of  the  human 
mind ;  they  whom,  just  to  ourselves  and  them,  we 
call  our  forbears,  had  an  idea  their  blood  and 
bombast  were  not  ridiculous  enough  in  them- 
selves ;  so  when  the  curtain  had  fallen  on  the 
debris  of  the  dramatis  personce,  and  of  common 
sense,  they  sent  on  an  actress  to  turn  all  the 
sentiment  so  laboriously  acquired  into  a  jest. 

To  insist  that  nothing  good  or  beautiful  shall 
be  carried  safe  from  a  play  out  into  the  street 
was  the  bigotry  of  EngHsh  horse  play.  Was  a 
Lucretia  the  heroine  of  the  tragedy,  she  was  care- 


16  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

fal  in  the  epilogue  to  speak  like  Messalina.  Did 
a  king's  mistress  come  to  hunger  and  repentance, 
she  disinfected  all  the  petites  mattresses  in  the 
house  of  the  moral,  by  assuring  them  that  sin  is 
a  joke,  repentance  a  greater,  and  that  she  indi- 
vidually was  ready  for  either  if  they  would  but 
cry,  laugh,  and  pay.  Then  the  audience  used  to 
laugh ;  and  if  they  did  not,  lo !  the  manager, 
actor,  and  author  of  heroic  tragedy  were  exceed- 
ing sorrowful. 

Whilst  sitting  attendance  on  the  epilogue,  Mr. 
Vane  had  nothing  to  distract  him  from  the  con- 
gregation but  a  sanguinary  sermon  in  five  heads  ; 
so  his  eyes  roved  over  the  pews,  and  presently 
he  became  aware  of  a  familiar  face  watching  him 
closely.  The  gentleman  to  whom  it  belonged, 
finding  himself,  recognized,  left  his  seat,  and  a 
minute  later  Sir  Charles  Pomander  entered  Mr. 
Vane's  box. 

This  Sir  Charles  Pomander  was  a  gentleman 
of  vice  :  pleasure  he  called  it.  Mr.  Vane  had 
made  his  acquaintance  two  years  ago  in  Shrop- 
shire. Sir  Charles,  who  husbanded  every  thing 
except  his  soul,  had  turned  himself  out  to  grass 
for  a  month.     His  object  was,  by  roast  mutton. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.       _  IT 

bread,  with  some  little  flour  in  it,  air,  water,  tem- 
perance, chastity,  and  peace,  to  be  enabled  to 
take  a  deeper  plunge  into  impurities  of  food  and 
morals. 

A  few  nights  ago,  unseen  by  Mr.  Yane,  he  had 
observed  him  in  the  theatre.  An  ordinary  man 
would  have  gone  at  once  and  shaken  hands  with 
him ;  but  this  was  not  an  ordinaiy  man,  this  was 
a  diplomatist.  First  of  all,  he  said  to  himself, 
"  What  is  tliis  man  doing  here  ?  "  Then  he  soon 
discovered  this  man  must  be  in  love  with  some 
actress  ;  then  it  became  his  business  to  know  who 
she  was  ;  this,  too,  soon  betrayed  itself.  Then  it 
became  more  than  ever  Sir  Charles's  business  to 
know  whether  Mrs.  Woffington  returned  the  sen- 
timent —  and  here  his  penetration  was  at  fault 
for  the  moment ;  he  determined,  however,  to 
discover. 

Mr.  Vane  then  received  his  friend  all  unsus- 
picious how  that  friend  had  been  skinning  him 
with  his  eyes  for  some  time  past.  After  the 
usual  compHments  had  passed  between  two  gen- 
tlemen who  had  been  hand  and  glove  for  a 
month,  and  forgotten  each  other's  existence  for 
2 


18  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

two  years.  Sir  Charles,  still  keeping  in  view  his 
design,  said,  — 

"  Let  us  go  upon  the  stage."  The  fourth  act 
had'just  concluded. 

"  Go  upon  the  stage  ! "  said  Mr.  Vane. 
"  What !  where  she  —  I  mean  among  the  act- 
ors ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  come  into  the  greeni'oom.  There  are 
one  or  two  people  of  reputation  there  :  I  will  in- 
troduce you  to  them  if  you  please." 

"  Go  upon  the  stage  !  "  Why,  if  it  had  been 
proposed  to  him  to  go  to  heaven  he  would  not 
have  been  more  astonished.  He  was  too  aston- 
ished at  first  to  realize  the  full  beauty  of  the 
arrangement,  by  means  of  wliich  he  might  be 
within  a  yard  of  Mrs.  Woffington,  might  feel  her 
dress  rustle  past  him,  might  speak  to  her,  might 
drink  her  voice  fresh  from  her  lips  almost  before 
it  mingled  with  meaner  air.  Silence  gives  con- 
sent, and  Mr.  Vane,  though  he  thought  a  great 
deal,  said  nothing ;  so  Pomander  rose,  and  they 
left  the  boxes  together.  He  led  the  way  to  the 
stage  door,  which  was  opened  obsequiously  to 
him.     They  then  passed  through  a  dismal  pas- 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.       .  19 

sage,  and  suddenly  emerged  upon  that  scene  of 
enchantment,  the  stage  —  a  dirty  platform,  en- 
cumbered on  all  sides  with  piles  of  scenery  in 
flats.  They  threaded  their  way  through  rusty 
velvet  actors  and  fustian  carpenters,  and  entered 
the  greeni'oom.  At  the  door  of  this  magic  cham- 
ber Vane  trembled,  and  half  wished  he  could  re- 
tire. They  entered ;  his  apprehension  gave  way 
to  disappointment ;  she  was  not  there.  Collect- 
ing himself,  he  was  presently  introduced  to  a 
smart,  janty,  and,  to  do  him  justice,  distingue 
old  beau.  This  was  Colley  Gibber,  Esq.,  poet 
laureate,  and  retu'ed  actor  and  di'amatist  —  a 
gentleman  who  is  entitled  to  a  word  or  two. 

This  Gibber  was  the  only  actor  since  Shak- 
speare's  time  who  had  both  acted  and  written 
well.  Pope's  personal  resentment  misleads  the 
reader  of  English  poetry  as  to  Gibber's  real 
place  among  the  wits  of  the  day. 

The  man's  talent  was  dramatic,  not  didactic, 
or  epic,  or  pastoral.  Pope  was  not  so  deep  in 
the  di-ama  as  in  other  matters,  and  Gibber  was 
one  of  its  luminaries.  He  wrote  some  of  the 
best  comedies  of  his  day.  He  also  succeeded 
where  Dryden,  for  lack  of  true  dramatic  taste. 


20  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

failed.  He  tampered  successfally  with  Shak- 
speare.  Collcy  Gibber's  version  of  "  Ricliard  the 
Thii'd  "  is  impudent,  and  slightly  larcenic,  but  it 
is  mai'vellously  effective.  It  has  stood  a  centuiy, 
and  probably  will  stand  forever;  and  the  most 
admired  passages,  in  what  literary  humbugs,  who 
pretend  they  know  Shakspeare  by  the  closet,  not 
the  stage,  accept  as  Shakspeare's  "  E-ichard,"  are 
Gibber's. 

Mr.  Gibber  was  now  in  private  life,  a- mild  edi- 
tion of  his  own  Lord  Foppington  ;  he  had  none 
of  the  snob  fop,  as  represented  on  our  conven- 
tional stage ;  nobody  ever  had  and  lived.  He 
was  in  tolerably  good  taste ;  but  he  went  ever 
gold  laced,  highly  powdered,  scented,  and  dia- 
monded, dispensing  graceful  bows,  praises  of 
whoever  had  the  good  luck  to  be  dead,  and  satii'e 
of  all  who  were  here  to  enjoy  it. 

Mr.  Vane,  to  whom  the  di'ama  had  now  be- 
come the  golden  branch  of  letters,  looked  with 
some  awe  on  this  veteran,  for  he  had  seen  many 
"Woffingtons.  He  fell  soon  upon  the  subject 
nearest  his  heart.  He  asked  Mr.  Gibber  what  he 
thought  of  Mrs.  Woffington.  The  old  gentle- 
man thought   well  of   the  young    lady's  talent, 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.        '  21 

especially  her  comedy.  "  In  tragedy/'  said  he, 
"  she  imitates  Mademoiselle  Dumesnil,  of  the 
Theatre  Fran^ais,  and  confounds  the  stage  rhet- 
orician with  the  actress."  The  next  question  was 
not  so  fortunate.  "  Did  you  ever  see  so  great 
and  true  an  actress,  upon  the  whole  ?  " 

Mr.  Gibber  opened  his  eyes,  a  slight  flush  came 
into  his  wash-leather  face,  and  he  rephed,  "  I 
have  not  only  seen  many  equal,  many  superior  to 
her,  but  I  have  seen  some  half  dozen  who  would 
have  eaten  her  up  and  spit  her  out  again,  and 
not  known  they  had  done  any  thing  out  of  the 
way." 

Here  Pomander  soothed  the  veteran's  dudgeon 
by  explaining  in  dulcet  tones  that  his  friend  was 
not  long  from  Shropshire,  and  — .  The  critic 
interrupted  him,  and  bade  him  not  dilute  the 
excuse. 

Now,  Mr.  Vane  had  as  much  to  say  as  either 
of.  them,  but  he  had  not  the  habit,  which  dramat- 
ic folks  have,  of  carrying  his  whole  bank  in  his 
cheek  pocket ;  so  they  quenched  him  for  two  min- 
utes. But  lovers  are  not  silenced ;  he  soon  re- 
turned to  the  attack.  He  dwelt  on  the  grace,  the 
ease,  and  freshness,  the  intelligence,  the  universal 


22  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

beauty  of  Mrs.  Woffiugton.  Pomander  sneered 
to  draw  liim  out.  Gibber  smiled  with  good  na- 
tured  superiority.  This  nettled  the  young  gen- 
tleman ;  he  fired  up  ;  his  handsome  countenance 
glowed  ;  he  tui'ned  Demosthenes  for  her  he  loved. 
One  advantage  he  had  over  both  Gibber  and  Po- 
mander —  a  fair  stock  of  classical  learning.  On 
this  he  now  drew. 

"  Other  actors  and  actresses/'  said  he,  "  ai^e  mo- 
notonous in  voice,  monotonous  in  action  ;  but  Mrs. 
TVoffington's  delivery  has  thexompass  and  variety 
of  nature,  and  her  movements  are  free  from  the  stale 
uniformity  that  distinguishes  artifice  from  art. 
The  others  seem  to  me  to  have  but  two  dreams  of 
grace ;  a  sort  of  crawling  on  stilts  is  their  motion, 
and  an  angular  stiffness  their  repose."  He  then 
cited  the  most  famous  statues  of  antiquity,  and 
quoted  situations  in  plays  where,  by  her  fine  di-a- 
matic  instinct,  Mrs.  Wofiington,  he  said,  thi'ew 
her  person  into  postui-es  similar  to  these,  and  of 
equal  beauty ;  not  that  she  strikes  attitudes  like 
the  rest,  but  she  melts  fr-om  one  beautiful  statue 
into  another  ;  and  if  sculptors  could  gather  fr'om 
her  immortal  graces,  painters,  too,  might  take 
from  her  face  the  beauties  that  belong  of  right 


PEG    W(iF  KINGTON.  ^3 

to  passion  and  tiiougiit,  and  orators  might  revive 
their  withered  art,  and  learn  firom  those  golden 
lips  the  music  of  old  Athens,  that  quelled  tem- 
pestuous mobs,  and  princes  drunk  with  victory. 

Much  as  this  was,  he  was  going  to  say  more, 
ever  so  much  more ;  but  he  became  conscious  of  a 
singular  soit  of  grin  upon  every  face.  This  grin 
made  him  turn  rapidly  round  to  look  for  its 
cause.  It  explained  itself  at  once.  At  his  very 
elbow  was  a  lady  whom  his  heart  recognized, 
though  her  back  was  turned  to  him.  She  was 
dressed  in  a  rich  silk  gown,  pearl  white,  with 
flowers  and  sprigs  embroidered ;  her  beautiful 
white  neck  and  arms  were  bare.  She  was  sweep 
ing  up  the  room  with  the  epilogue  in  her  hand, 
learning  it  off  by  heart ;  at  the  other  end  of  the 
room  she  turned,  and  now  she  shone  full  upon 
him. 

It  certainly  was  a  dazzling  creature.  She  had 
a  head  of  beautiful  form,  perched  like  a  bird 
upon  a  throat  massive,  yet  shapely  and  smooth  as 
a  column  of  alabaster ;  a  symmetrical  brow ; 
black  eyes,  full  of  fire  and  tenderness  ;  a  deli- 
cious mouth,  with  a  hundi-ed  varying  expressions, 
and  that  marvellous  faculty  of  giving  beauty  alike 


24  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

to  love  or  scorn,  a  sneer  or  a  smile.  But  slie 
had  one  feature  more  remarkable  than  all  —  her 
eyebrows,  the  actor's  feature  ;  they  were  jet  black, 
strongly  marked,  and  in  repose  were  arched  like 
a  rainbow  ;  but  it  was  their  extraordinary  flexi- 
bility which  made  other  faces  upon  the  stage  look 
sleepy  beside  Margaret  Woflington's.  In  person 
she  was  considerably  above,  the  middle  height, 
and  so  finely  formed  that  one  could  not  deter- 
mine the  exact  character  of  her  figure.  At  one 
time  it  seemed  all  stateliness,  at  another  time  ele- 
gance personified,  and  flowing  voluptuousness  at 
another.  She  was  Juno,  Psyche,  Hebe,  by  turns, 
and  for  aught  we  know  at  will. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  a  sort  of  halo  of 
personal  grandeur  surrounds  a  great  actress.  A 
scene  is  set ;  half  a  dozen  nobodies  are  there  lost 
in  it,  because  they  are  and  seem  lumps  of  nothing. 
The  great  artist  steps  upon  that  scene,  and  how 
she  fills  it  in  a  moment !  Mind  and  majesty  wait 
upon  her  in  the  au' ;  her  person  is  lost  in  the 
greatness  of  her  personal  presence ;  she  dilates 
with  thought,  and  a  stupid  giantess  looks  a  dwarf 
beside  her. 

No  wonder,  then,  that   Mr.  Vane   felt   over- 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.        '  25 

powered  by  this  torch  in  a  closet.  To  vary  the 
metaphor,  it  seemed  to  him,  as  she  swept  up  and 
down,  as  if  the  greem-oom  was  a  shell,  and  this 
glorious  creature  must  burst  it  and  be  free. 
Meantime,  the  others  saw  a  pretty  actress  study- 
ing her  business ;  and  Gibber  saw  a  dramatic 
school  girl,  learning  what  he  presumed  to  be  a 
very  silly  set  of  words.  Sii'  C.  Pomander's  eye 
had  been  on  her  the  moment  she  entered,  and  he 
watched  keenly  the  effect  of  Vane's  eloquent  eu- 
logy ;  but  apparently  the  actress  was  too  deep  in 
her  epilogue  for  any  thing  else.  She  came  in 
saying  "  Mum,  mum,  mum,"  over  her  task,  and 
she  went  on  doing  so.  The  experienced  Mr. 
Gibber,  who  had  divined  Vane  in  an  instant,  drew 
him  into  a  corner,  and  complimented  him  on  his 
well-timed  eulogy. 

^'You  acted  that  mighty  well,  sir,"  said  he. 
"  Stop  my  vitals,  if  I  did  not  tliink  you  were  in 
earnest,  till  I  saw  the  jade  had  slipped  in  among 
us.     It  told,  sir  ;  it  told." 

Up  fired  Vane.  "  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  " 
said  he.  "  Do  you  suppose  my  admiration  of 
that  lady  is  feigned  ?  " 

"  No  need  to  speak  so  loud,  sir,"  replied  the 
3 


26  PEG    VVOFFINGTON. 

* 

old  gentleman  ;  "  she  hears  you.  These  hussies 
have  ears  Hke  hawks." 

He  then  dispensed  a  private  wink  and  a  pubhc 
bow,  with  which  he  strolled  away  from  Mr. 
Vane,  and  walked  feebly  and  jantily  up  the 
room,  whistling  "  Fair  Hebe,"  fixing  his  eye  upon 
the  past,  and  somewhat  ostentatiously  overlooking 
the  existence  of  the  present  company. 

There  is  no  great  harm  in  an  old  gentleman 
whisthng,  but  there  are  two  ways  of  doing  it ; 
and  as  this  old  beau  did  it,  it  seemed  not  mihke 
a  small  cock-a-doodle-doo  of  general  defiance ; 
and  the  denizens  of  the  greeni'oom,  swelled  now 
to  a  considerable  number  by  the  addition  of  all 
the  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  had  been  killed  in 
the  fourth  act,  or  whom  the  buttery -fingered  au- 
thor could  not  keep  in  hand  until  the  fall  of  the 
curtain,  felt  it  as  such  ;  and  so  they  were  not 
sorry  when  Mrs.  Woffington,  looking  up  fi.*om  her 
epilogue,  cast  a  glance  upon  the  old  beau,  waited 
for  him,  and  walked  parallel  mth  him  on  the 
other  side  the  room,  giving  an  absurdly  exact 
imitation  of  his  carriage  and  deportment.  To 
make  this  more  striking,  she  pulled  out  of  her 
pocket,  after  a  mock   search,  a   huge  paste  ring, 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.        '  27 

gazed  on  it  with,  a  ludicrous  affectation  of  simple 
wonder,  stuck  it,  like  Gibber's  diamond,  on  her 
little  finger,  and  pursing  up  her  mouth,  proceeded 
to  whistle  a  quick  movement,  — 

"  Which  by  some  devilish  cantrip  sleight," 

played  round  the  old  beau's  slow  movement  with 
out  being  at  variance  with  it.     As  for  the  charac- 
ter of  this   ladylike  performance,  it  was  •  clear, 
brilliant,  and  loud  as  blacksmith. 

The  folks  laughed  ;  Vane  was  shocked.  "  She 
profanes  herself  by  whistling,"  thought  he.  Mr. 
Gibber  was  confounded.  He  appeared  to  have 
no  idea  whence  came  this  sparkling  adagio.  He 
looked  round,  placed  his  hands  to  his  ears, 
and  left  off  whistling.  So  did  his  musical  ac- 
complice. 

'^  Gentlemen,"  said  Gibber,  with  pathetic  grav 
ity,  "  the  wind  howls  most  dismally  this  evening  ! 
I  took  it  for  a  drunken  shoemaker  !  " 

At  this  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter,  except 
fi'om  Mr.  Vane.  Peg  "Woffington  laughed  as 
merrily  as  the  others,  and  showed  a  set  of  teeth 
that  were  really  dazzling  ;  but  all  in  one  moment, 


S8  PEG    WOFP'INGTON. 

without  the  preliminaries  an  ordinary  counte- 
nance requiies,  this  laughing  Venus  pulled  a  face 
gloomy  beyond  conception.  Down  came  her 
black  brows,  straight  as  a  line,  and  she  cast  a  look 
of  bitter  reproach  on  all  present ;  resuming  her 
study,  as  who  should  say,  "  Are  ye  not  ashamed 
to  divert  a  poor  girl  fi'om  her  epilogue  ?  "  And 
then  she  went  on,  "  Mum,  mum,  mum,"  casting 
off,  ever  atid  anon,  resentful  glances ;  and  this 
made  the  fools  laugh  again. 

The  laureate  was  now  respectfully  addressed 
by  one  of  his  admirers,  James  Quin,  the  Falstaff 
of  the  day,  and  the  rival  at  this  time  of  Garrick 
in  tragic  characters,  though  the  general  opinion 
was,  that  he  could  not  long  maintain  a  stand 
against  the  younger  genius  and  his  rising  school 
of  art. 

Off  the  stage  James  Quin  was  a  character ;  his 
eccentricities  were  three  ;  a  humorist,  a  glutton, 
and  an  honest  man  —  traits  that  often  caused  as 
tonishment  and  ridicule,  especially  the  last. 

"  May  we  not  hope  for  something  fi-om  Mr. 
Gibber's  pen  after  so  long  a  silence  ?  " 

"  No,"  was  the  considerate  reply.  "  Who 
have  ye  got  to  play  it  ?  " 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  29 

*'  Plenty,"  said  Quin ;  "  there's  your  humble 
servant ;  there's " 

"  Humility  ^t  the  head  of  the  list,"  cried  she  of 
the  epilogue.     "  Mum,  mum,  mum !  " 

Vane  thought  this  so  sharp  ! 

^'  Garrick,  Barry,  Macklin,  Kitty  Clive  here  at 
my  side,  INIrs.  Gibber,  the  best  tragic  actress  I 
ever  saw  ;    and   Wofiington,  who  is   as   good  a 
comedian  as  you  ever  saw,  sir  !  "  and  Quin  turned  • 
as  red  as  fire. 

"  Keep  your  temper,  Jemmy,"  said  Mrs.  Wof- 
fington,  with  a  severe  accent.  "  Mum,  mum, 
mum  ! " 

"You  misunderstand  my  question,"  replied 
Gibber,  calmly  ;  "  I  know  your  dramatis  per- 
soncd,  but  where  the  devil  are  your  actors  ?  " 

Here  was  a  blow. 

'^  The  public,"  said  Quin,  in  some  agitation, 
"  would  snore,  if  we  acted  as  they  did  in  your 
time." 

"  How  do  you  know  that,  sir  ?  "  was  the  su- 
percilious rejoinder  ;  "  you  never  tried  I  " 

Mr.  Quin  was  silenced.  Peg  "Wofiington 
looked  off  her  epilogue. 


30  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Bad  as  we  are,"  said  she,  coolly,  "  we  might 
be  worse." 

Mr.  Gibber  tui'ued  round,  sligKtly  raised  liis 
eyebrows, — 

"Indeed!"  said  he.     "Madam!"  added  he, 
with    a    courteous    smile,    "  will   you   be    kind 
enough  to    explain    to    me    how  you    could   be 
worse  ?  " 
'      "  If,  like  a  crab,  we  could  go  backwards  !  " 

At  this  the  auditors  tittered ;  and  Mr.  Cibbei 
had  recourse  to  his  spy-glass. 

This  gentleman  was  satirical  or  insolent,  as  the 
case  might  demand,  in  three  degrees,  of  which 
the  snuffbox  was  the  comparative,  and  the  spy 
glass  the  superlative.  He  had  learned  this  on  the 
stage.  In  annihilatiug  Quin  he  had  just  used 
the  snuiF  weapon,  and  now  he  drew  his  spy-glass 
upon  poor  Peggy. 

*^  Whom  have  we  here  ?  "  said  he  ;  then  he 
looked  with  his  spy -glass  to  see.  "  O,  the  little 
Irish  orange  girl !  " 

"  Whose    basket    outweighed  Colly    Gibber's 
salary  for  the  first   twenty  years  of  his   di'amatic, 
career,"  was  the  delicate  reply  to  the  above  deli- 
cate remark.     It  staggered  him  for   a  moment ; 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.         '  31 

however,  he  aiFected  a  most  puzzled  air,  then 
gradually  allowed  a  light  to  steal  into  his  features. 

"  Eh  !  ah !  O,  how  stupid  I  am  !  I  understand  ; 
you  sold  something  besides  oranges  ! " 

"  O,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  and  colored  up  to  the 
temples,  and  cast  a  look  on  Gibber,  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  If  you  were  not  seventy-three  !  " 

His  ejaculation  was  something  so  different  from 
any  tone  any  other  person  there  present  could 
have  uttered,  that  the  actress's  eye  dwelt  on  him 
for  a  single  moment,  and  in  that  moment  he  felt 
himself  looked  through  and  through. 

"  I  sold  the  young  fops  a  bargain,  you  mean," 
was  her  calm  reply  ;  "  and  now  I  am  come  down 
to  the  old  ones.  A  truce,  Mr.  Gibber.  What  do 
you  understand  by  an  actor  ?  Tell  me,  for  I  am 
foolish  enough  to  respect  your  opinion  on  these 
matters." 

*'  An  actor,  young  lady,"  said  he,  gravely,  '^'is 
an  artist  who  has  gone  deep  enough  in  his  art 
to  make  dunces,  critics,  and  greenhorns  take  i|; 
for  nature ;  moreover,  he  really  personates^ 
which  your  mere  man  of  the  stage  never  does. 
He  has  learned  the  true  art  of  self-multiplica- 
tion. He  drops  Betterton,  Booth,  Wilkes,  or, 
a-hem " 


S2  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Gibber/'  inserted  Sir  Charles  Pomander. 
Gibber  bowed. 

*'  In  his  di^essing  room,  and  comes  out  young 
or  old,  a  fop,  a  valet,  a  lover,  or  a  hero,  with 
voice,  mien,  and  every  gesture  to  match.  A  grain 
less  than  this  may  be  good  speaking,  fine  preach- 
ing, deep  grunting,  high  ranting,  eloquent  recit- 
ing ;  but  I'll  be  hanged  if  it  is  acting  !  " 

"  Then  Golly  Gibber  never  acted,"  whispered 
Quin  to  Mrs.  Glive. 

"Then  Margaret  Woffington  is  an  actress," 
said  M.  TV.  "  The  fine  ladies  take  my  Lady 
Betty  for  their  sister.  In  Mrs.  Day  I  pass  for  a 
woman  of  seventy  ;  and  in  Sir  Harry  "VVildair  I 
have  been  taken  for  a  man.  I  would  have  told 
you  that  before,  but  I  didn't  know  it  was  to  my 
credit,"  said  she,  slyly,  "till  Mr.  Gibber  laid 
down  the  law." 

"Proof!"  said  Gibber. 

"  A  warm  letter  from  one  lady,  diamond  buc- 
kles from  another,  and  an  offer  of  her  hand  and 
fortime  from  a  third  ;  rien  que  cela.'' 

Mr.  Gibber  conveyed  behind  her  back  a  look 
of  absolute  incredulity ;  she  divined  it. 

"  I  will  not  show  you  the  letters,"  continued 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.        '  33 

she,  "  because  Sir  Harry,  tliougli  a  rake,  was  a 
gentleman  ;  but  here  are  the  buckles  ;  "  and  she 
fished  them  out  of  her  pocket,  capacious  of  such 
things.  The  buckles  were  gravely  inspected; 
they  made  more  than  one  eye  water  ;  they  were 
undeniable.  ^ 

"  Well,  let  us  see  what  we  can  do  for  her,'* 
said  the  laureate.  He  tapped  his  box,  and  with- 
out a  moment's  hesitation  produced  the  most  exe- 
crable distich  in  the  language  :  — 

"  Now  who  is  like  Peggy,  with  talent  at  will, 
A  maid  loved  her  Harry, /or  want  of  a  Bill  7^^ 

"  Well,  child,"  continued  he,  after  the  ap 
plause  which  follows  extemporary  verses  had  sub- 
sided, ''  take  me  in.  Play  something  to  make  me 
lose  sight  of  saucy  Peg  WofRngton,  and  I'll  give 
the  world  five  acts  more  before  the  curtain  falls 
on  CoUy  Gibber." 

"  If  you  could  be  deceived,"  put  in  Mr.  Vane, 
somewhat  timidly ;  "  I  think  there  is  no  dis- 
guise through  which  grace  and  beauty  such  as 
Mrs.  Woffington's  would  not  shine,  to  my  eyes." 

"  That  is  to  praise  my  person  at  the  expense 
of  my  wit,  sir,  is  it  not  ?  "  was  her  reply. 


34  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

This  was  the  first  word  she  had  ever  addressed 
to  him ;  the  tones  appeared,  so  sweet  to  him  that 
he  could  not  find  any  thing  to  reply  for  listening 
to  them  ;  and  Gibber  resumed  :  — 

"  Meantime,  I  will  show  you  a  real  actress ; 
she  is  coming  here  to-night  to  meet  me.  Did 
ever  you  children  hear  of  Ann  Bracegii'dle  ?  " 

''  Bracegirdle  !  "  said  Mrs.  Clive ;  "  why,  she 
has  been  dead  this  thirty  years ;  at  least  I 
thought  so." 

'^  Dead  to  the  stage.  There  is  more  heat  in 
her  ashes  than  in  your  fire,  Kate  Clive !  Ah, 
here  comes  her  messenger,"  continued  he,  as  an 
ancient  man  appeared,  with  a  letter  in  his  hand. 
This  letter  Mrs.  Woffington  snatched  and  read, 
and  at  the  same  instant  in  bounced  .the  call  boy. 
"  Epilogue  called,"  said  this  urchin,  in  the  tone 
of  command  which  these  small  fiy  of  Parnassus 
adopt ;  and  obedient  to  his  high  behest,  Mrs.  "Wof- 
fington moved  to  the  door  with  the  Bracegirdle 
missive  in  her  hand,  but  not  before  she  had  dehv- 
ered  its  general  contents.  "  The  great  actress 
will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes,"  said  she,  and  she 
glided  swiftly  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER    II. 

People  whose  mind  or  maniiers  possess  any 
feature,  and  are  not  as  devoid  of  all  eccentricity 
as  half  pounds  of  butter  bought  of  metropolitan 
grocers,  are  recommended  not  to  leave  a  room  full 
of  their  acquaintances  until  the  last  but  one. 
Yes,  they  should  always  be  penultimate.  Perhaps 
Mrs.  Woffington  knew  this  ;  but  epilogues  are 
stubborn  things,  and  call  boys  undeniable. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  a  woman  whistle  be- 
fore?" 

"  Never  ;  but  I  saw  one  sit  astride  on  an  ass 
in  Germany." 

"  The  saddle  was  not  on  her  husband,  I  hope, 
madam !  " 

"  No,  sir ;  the  husband  walked  by  his  kins- 
folk's side,  and  made  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain, 
as  Peggy's  husband  will  have  to." 

"  Wait  till  some  one  ventures  on  the  gay  Lo- 

tharia  —  illi  cbs  triplex  ;  that  means  he  must  have 

triple  brass,  Kitty." 

(35) 


36  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  I  deny  that,  sir,  since  his  wife  will  always 
have  enough  for  both." 

"  I  have  not  observed  the  lady's  brass,"  said 
Vane,  trembling  with  passion  ;  "  but  I  observed 
her  talent,  and  I  noticed  that  whoever  attacks  her 
to  her  face  comes  badly  off." 

"  Well  said,  sir,"  answered  Qiiin  ;  "  and  1 
wish  Eatty  here  would  tell  us  why  she  hates  Mrs. 
"Woffington,  the  best  natured  woman  in  the  the- 
atre." 

"  I  don't  hate  her  ;  I  don't  trouble  my  head 
about  her." 

''  Yes,  you  hate  her  ;  for  you  never  miss  a  cut 
at  her,  never."     " 

"  Do  you  hate  a  haunch  of  venison,  Quin  ?  " 
said  the  lady. 

"  No,  you  little  unnatural  monster  !  "  replied 
Quin. 

^'  For  all  that,  you  never  miss  a  cut  at  one  ;  so 
hold  your  tongue." 

"  Le  beau  raisonnement !  "  said  Mr.  Gibber. 
'*  James  Quin,  don't  interfere  with  Nature's 
laws ;  let  our  ladies  hate  one  another  ;  it  eases 
their  minds.  Try  to  make  them  Christians,  and 
you  will  not  convert  their  tempers,  but  spoil  your 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.       '  37 

own.  Peggy,  there,  Kates  George  Anne  Bellamy 
because  she  has  gaudy  silk  dresses  from  Paris, 
by  paying  for  them,  as  she  could,  if  not  too  stin- 
gy. Kitty,  here,  hates  Peggy  because  Pich  has 
breeched  her ;  whereas  Kitty,  who  now  sets  up 
for  a  prude,  wanted  to  put  delicacy  oiF,  and 
small  clothes  on,  in  Peg's  stead  ;  that  is  where 
the  Kate  and  Peg  shoe  pinches,  near  the  femoral 
artery,  James." 

'^  Shrimps  have  the  souls  of  shrimps,"  re- 
sumed this  censor  castigatorque  minorum.  "  Lis- 
ten to  me,  and  learn  that  really  great  actors  are 
great  in  soul,  and  do  not  blubber  Hke  a  great  school 
girl  because  Anne  Bellamy  has  two  yellow  silk 
dresses  from  Paris,  as  I  saw  Woffington  blubber 
in  this  room,  and  would  not  be  comforted ;  nor 
fume  like  Kitty  Clive,  because  Woffington  has  a 
pair  of  breeches  and  a  Kttle  boy's  rapier  to  go  a 
playing  at  acting  with.  When  I  was  young,  two 
giantesses  fought  for  empire  upon  this  very  stage, 
where  now  dwarfs  crack  and  bounce  like  parched 
peas.  They  played  Poxana  and  Statira  in  the 
'  Pival  Queens.'  Rival  queens  of  art  themselves, 
they  put  out  all  their  strength.  In  the  middle 
of  the  last  act  the  town  gave  judgment  in  favor 


38  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

of  Statii-a.  What  did  Roxana  ?  Did  she  spill 
grease  ou  Statii-a's  robe  as  Peg  Woffington  would  ? 
or  stab  her,  as  I  believe  Kitty,  here,  capable  of 
doing  ?  No !  Statira  was  never  so  tenderly 
killed  as  that  night :  she  owned  this  to  me.  Rox- 
ana bade  the  theatre  farewell  that  night,  and 
wrote  to  Statii'a  thus  —  I  give  you  word  for 
word  :  ^  Madam,  the  best  judge  we  have  has  de- 
cided in  your  favor.  I  shall  never  play  second 
on  a  stage  where  I  have  been  first  so  long ;  but  I 
shall  often  be  a  spectator,  and  methinks  none 
will  appreciate  your  talent  more  than  I,  who  have 
felt  its  weight.  My  wardrobe,  one  of  the  best 
in  Europe,  is  of  no  use  to  me  ;  if  you  will  honor 
me  by  selecting  a  few  of  my  dresses,  you  will 
gratify  me,  and  I  shall  fancy  I  see  myself  upon 
the  stage  to  greater  advantage  than  before.'  " 

"  And  what  did  Statira  answer,  sir  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Vane,  eagerly. 

"  She  answered  thus  :  '  Madam,  the  town  has 
often  been  wrong,  and  may  have  been  so  last 
night,  in  supposing  that  I  vied  successfully  with 
your  merit ;  but  thus  much  is  certain,  —  and  here, 
madam,  I  am  the  best  judge,  —  that  oif  the  stage 
you  have  just  conquered  me.     I   shall  wear  with 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.        "  39 

pride  any  dress  you  have  honored,  and  shall  feel 
inspii'ed  to  great  exertions  by  your  presence 
among  our  spectators,  unless,  indeed,  the  sense 
of  your  magnanimity  and  the  recollection  of  your 
talent  should  damp  me  by  the  dread  of  losing  any 
portion  of  your  good  opinion.'  " 

''  "What  a  couple  of  stiff  old  things  !  "  said  Mrs. 
CHve. 

"Nay,  madam,  say  not  so,"  cried  Vane, 
warmly  ;  "  sui-ely  this  was  the  lofty  courtesy  of 
two  great  minds  not  to  be  overbalanced  by  strife, 
defeat,  or  victory." 

"  What  were  their  names,  sir  ?  " 

"  Statira  was  the  great  Mrs.  Oldfield.  Roxana 
you  will  see  here  to-night." 

This  caused  a  sensation. 

Colly's  reminiscences  were  interrupted  by  loud 
applause  from  the  theatre  ;  the  present  seldom 
gives  the  past  a  long  hearing. 

The  old  war  horse  cocked  his  ears. 

"  It  is  Woffington  speaking  the  epilogue,"  said 
Quin. 

"  O,  she  has  got  the  length  of  their  foot  some- 
how," said  a  small  actress. 

"  And  the  breadth  of  their  hands,  too,"  said 
Pomander,  waking  from  a  nap. 


40  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  It  is  the  depth  of  theii*  hearts  she  has 
sounded,"  said  Vane. 

In  those  days,  if  a  metaphor  started  up,  the 
poor  thing  was  coursed  up  hill  and  down  dale, 
and  torn  limb  from  jacket ;  even  in  Parliament,  a 
trope  was  sometimes  hunted  fi'om  one  session 
into  another. 

^^You  were  asking  me  about  Mrs.  Oldfield, 
sir,"  resumed  Gibber,  rather  peevishly  "  I  will 
own  to  you,  I  lack  words  to  convey  a  just  idea  of 
her  double  and  complete  supremacy.  But  the 
comedians  of  this  day  are  weak-strained  farceurs 
compared  with  her,  and  her  tragic  tone  was  thim- 
der  set  to  music. 

"  I  saw  a  brigadier  general  cry  like  a  child  at 
her  Indiana.  I  have  seen  her  crying  with  pain 
herself  at  the  wing,  (for  she  was  always  a  great 
sufferer ;)  I  have  seen  her  then  spring  upon  the 
stage  as  Lady  Townley,  and  in  a  moment  sorrow 
brightened  into  joy  ;  the  air  seemed  to  fill  with 
singing  birds,  that  chirped  the  pleasures  of  fash- 
ion, love,  and  youth,  in  notes  sparkKng  Hke  dia- 
monds, and  stars,  and  prisms.  She  was  above 
criticism,  out  of  its  scope,  as  is  the  blue  sky ; 
men  went  not  to  judge  her ;  they  drank  her,  and 
gazed  at  her,  and  were  warmed  at  her,  and  re- 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.        '  41 

freshed  by  her.  The  fops  were  awed  into  silence, 
and  with  their  humbler  betters  thanked  Heaven 
for  her,  if  they  thanked  it  for  any  thing. 

"  In  all  the  crowded  theatre,  care,  and  pain, 
and  poverty  were  banished  from  the  memory 
whilst  Oldfield's  face  spoke,  and  her  tongue 
flashed  melodies  ;  the  lawyer  forgot  his  quillets  ; 
the  polemic  the  mote  in  his  brother's  eye ;  the 
old  maid  her  grudge  against  the  two  sexes ;  the 
old  man  his  gray  hairs  and  his  lost  hours.  And 
can  it  be  that  all  this,  which  should  have  been 
immortal,  is  quite  —  quite  lost,  is  as  though  it  had 
never  been  ?  "  he  sighed.  "  Can  it  be  that  its 
fame  is  now  sustained  by  me,  who  twang  with  my 
poor  lute,  cracked  and  old,  these  feeble  praises  of 
a  broken  lyre,  — 

"  *  Whose  wires  were  golden,  and  its  heavenly  air 
More  tunable  than  lark  to  shepherd's  ear, 
When  wheat  is  green,  when  hawthorn  buds  appear '  ?  " 

He  paused,  and  his  eye  looked  back  over 
many  years ;  then,  with  a  very  different  tone,  he 
added,  — 

"  And  that  Jack  Falstaff  there  must  have  seen 
her,  now  I  think  on't." 
4 


42  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Only  once,  sir,"  said  Quin,  "  and  I  was  but 
ten  years  old." 

"  He  saw  her  once,  and  lie  was  ten  years  old ; 
yet  he  calls  Woffington  a  great  comedian,  and  my 
son  Tlie's  wife,  with  her  hatchet  face,  the  great- 
est tragedian  he  ever  saw !  Jemmy,  what  an  ass 
you  must  be  !  "  .      ■ 

"  Mrs.  Gibber  always  makes  me  cry,  and  t'oth- 
er always  makes  me  laugh,"  said  Quin,  stoutly ; 
''  that's  why." 

Ce  beau  raisonnement  met  no  answer  but  a  look 
of  sovereign  contempt. 

A  very  trifling  incident  saved  the  ladies  of  the 
British  stage  from  further  criticism.  There  were 
two  candles  in  this  room,  one  on  each  side ;  the 
call  boy  had  entered,  and  poking  about  for 
something,  knocked  down  and  broke  one  of 
these. 

'^  Awkward  imp  !  "  cried  a  velvet  page. 

"  I'll  go  to  the  Treasury  for  another,  ma'am," 
said  the  boy,  pertly,  and  vanished  with  the  frac- 
tured wax. 

I  take  advantage  of  the  interruption  to  open 
Mr.  Vane's  mind  to  the  reader.  First  he  had 
been  astonished  at  the  freedom  of  sarcasm  these 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  43 

people  indulged  in  without  quarrelling  ;  next  at 
tlie  non-respect  of  sex. 

"  So  sex  is  not  recognized  in  this  community," 
thought  he.  "  Then  the  glibness  and  merit  of  some 
of  theu-  answers  sui-prised  and  amused  him.  He, 
like  me,  had  seldom  met  an  imaginative  repartee, 
except  in  a  play  or  a  book.  "  Society's  "  repar- 
tees were  then,  as  they  are  now,  the  good  old 
three  in  various  dresses  and  veils  :  Tu  quoque, 
tu  mentiris,  vos  damnemini  ;  but  he  was  sick  and 
dispirited,  on  the  whole ;  such  very  bright  illu- 
sions had  been  dimmed  in  these  few  minutes. 

She  was  brilliant ;  but  her  manners,  if  not  mas- 
culine, were  very  daring ;  and  yet,  when  she 
spoke  to  him,  a  stranger,  how  sweet  and  gentle 
her  voice  was  !  Then  it  was  clear  nothing  but 
his  ignorance  could  have  placed  her  at  the  sum- 
mit of  her  art.   * 

Still  he  clung  to  his  enthusiasm  for  her.  He 
drew  Pomander  aside.  "  What  a  simplicity  there 
is  in  Mrs.  Woffington  !  "  said  he  ;  "  the  rest,  male 
and  female,  are  all  so  affected  ;  she  is  so  fresh 
and  natural.  They  are  all  hothouse  plants  ;  she 
is  a  cowslip  with  the  May  dew  on  it." 

"  What  you  take  for  simplicity  is  her  refined 
art,"  replied  Sir  Charles. 


44  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  No/'  said  Vane,  "  I  never  saw  a  more  inno 
cent  creatui'e  !  " 

Pomander  laughed  in  his  face.  This  laugh 
disconcerted  him  more  than  words  ;  he  spoke  no 
more ;  he  sat  pensive.  He  was  sorry  he  had 
come  to  this  place,  where  every  body  knew  his 
goddess  ;  yet  nobody  admired,  nobody  loved,  and 
alas  !  nobody  respected  her. 

He  was  roused  from  his  revery  by  a  noise ;  the 
noise  was  caused  by  Gibber  falling  on  Garrick, 
whom  Pomander  had  maliciously  quoted  against 
all  the  tragedians  of  Colly  Gibber's  day. 

"  I  tell  you,"  cried  the  veteran,  "  that  this 
Garrick  has  banished  dignity  from  the  stage,  and 
given  us  in  exchange  what  you  and  he  take  for 
fire ;  but  it  is  smoke  and  vapor.  His  manner  is 
little,  like  his  person ;  it  is  all  fuss  and  bustle. 
This  is  his  idea  of  a  tragic  scene*(  A  little  fellow 
comes  bustling  in,  goes  bustling  about,  and  runs 
bustling  out."  Here  Mr.  Gibber  left  the  room, 
to  give  greater  effect  to  his  description,  but  pres- 
ently returned  in  a  mighty  pother,  saying, 
"  *  Give  me  another  horse  ! '  Well,  where 's  the 
horse  '^  Don't  you  see  I'm  waiting  for  liim  ? 
'  Bind  up  my  wounds  ! '     Look  sharp  now  with 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  '  45 

these  wounds.  '  Have  mercy.  Heaven ! '  but  be 
quick  about  it,  for  the  pit  can't  wait  for  Heaven. 
Bustle,  bustle,  bustle  !  " 

The  old  dog  was  so  irresistibly  funny,  that  the 
whole  company  were  obliged  to  laugh ;  but  in  the 
midst  of  their  merriment  Mrs.  Woffington's  voice 
was  heard  at  the  door. 

"  This  way,  madam." 

A  clear  and  somewhat  shrill  voice  replied,  "  I 
know  the  way  better  than  you,  child,"  and  a 
stately  old  lady  appeared  on  the  threshold. 

'^  Bracegirdle,"  said  Mr.  Gibber. 

It  may  well  be  supposed  that  every  eye  was 
turned  on  this  new  comer  —  that  Roxana  for 
whom  Mr.  Gibber's  story  had  prepared  a  pecuHar 
interest.  She  was  dressed  in  a  rich  green  velvet 
gown,  with  gold  fringe.  Gibber  remembered  it ; 
she  had  played  .  the  "  Eastern  Queen  "  in  it. 
Heaven  forgive  all  concerned  !  It  was  fearfully 
pinched  in  at  the  waist  and  ribs,  so  as  to  give  the 
idea  of  wood  inside,  not  woman. 

Her  hair  and  eyebrows  were  iron  gray,  and 
she  had  lost  a  front  tooth,  or  she  would  still  have 
been  eminently  handsome.  She  was  tall  and 
straight  as  a  dart,  and  her  noble  port  betrayed 


46  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

none  of  tlie  weakness  of  age,  only  it  was  to  be 
seen  that  lier  hands  were  a  little  weak,  and  the 
gold-headed  crutch  struck  the  ground  rather 
sharply,  as  if  it  did  a  little  limbs'-duty. 

Such  was  the  lady  who  marched  into  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room,  with  a  "  How  do.  Colly  ?  "  and 
looking  over  the  company's  heads  as  if  she  did 
not  see"  them,  regarded  the  four  walls  with  some 
interest.  Like  a  cat,  she  seemed  to  think  more 
of  places  than  of  folk.  The  page  obsequiously 
offered  her  a  chair. 

"  Not  so  clean  as  it  used  to  be,"  said  Mrs. 
Bracegirdle. 

Unfortunately,  in  making  this  remark,  the  old 
lady  graciously  patted  the  page's  head  for  offer- 
ing her  the  chair ;  and  this  action  gave,  with 
some  of  the  ill-constituted  minds  that  are  ever  on 
the  titter,  a  ridiculous  dii'ection  to  a  remark  in- 
tended, I  believe,  for  the  paint  and  wainscots,  &c. 

"  Nothing  is  as  it  used  to  be,"  remarked  Mr. 
Gibber. 

"  All  the  better  for  every  thing,"  said  Mrs. 
CHve. 

"  We  were  laugliing  at  this  mighty  little  Da- 
vid, first  actor  of  this  mighty  little  age." 


PEG    WOFFINGT^N.     '  47 

Now,  if  Mr.  Gibber  tbougbt  to  find  in  the  new 
comer  an  ally  of  the  past^  in  its  indiscriminate 
attack  upon  tbe  present,  lie  was  much  mistaken  ; 
for  the  old  actress  made  onslaught  on  this  non- 
sense at  once. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  she,  "  and  not  the  first  time  by 
many  hundi'eds.  ,  'Tis  a  disease  you  have.  Cui-e 
youi'self.  Colly.  Davy  Garrick  pleases  the  pub- 
lic ;  and  in  trifles  like  acting,  that  take  nobody 
to  heaven,  to  please  all  the  world  is  to  be  great. 
Some  pretend  to  higher  aims,  but  none  have  'em. 
You  may  hide  this  from  young  fools,  mayhap,  but 
not  from  an  old  'oman  hke  me.  He  !  he !  he ! 
No,  no,  no ;  not  from  an  old  'oman  like  me." 

She  then  turned  round  in  her  chair,  and  with 
that  sudden,  unaccountable  snappishness  of  tone 
to  which  the  brisk  old  are  subject,  she  snarled, 
"  Gie  me  a  pinch  of  snuiF,  some  of  ye,  do ! " 

Tobacco  dust  was  instantly  at  her  disposal. 
She  took  it  with  the  points  of  her  fingers,  del- 
icately, and  divested  the  crime  of  half  its 
uncleanness  and  vulgarity  — more,  an  angel 
couldn't. 

"  Monstrous  sensible  woman,  though  !  "  whis- 
pered Quin  to  CHve. 


48  Vm    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Hey,  sir  ?  what  do  you  say,  sir  ?  for  I'm  a 
little  deaf."     (Not  very  to  praise,  it  seems.) 

"  That  your  judgment,  madam,  is  equal  to  the 
reputation  of  your  talent." 

The  words  were  hardly  spoken  before  the  old 
lady  rose  upright  as  a  tower.  She  then  made  an 
obhque  preliminary  sweep,  and  came  down  with 
such  a  courtesy  as  the  young  had  never  seen. 

James  Quin,  not  to  disgrace  his  generation, 
attempted  a  corresponding  bow,  for  which  his  fig- 
ure and  apoplectic  tendency  rendered  him  unfit  : 
and  whilst  he  was  transacting  it,  the  graceful  Gib- 
ber stepped  gravely  up,  and  looked  down  and  up 
the  process  with  his  glass,  like  a  naturaHst  in- 
specting some  strange  capriccio  of  an  orang- 
outang. The  gymnastics  of  courtesy  ended  with- 
out backfalls  —  Gibber  lowered  his  tone  :  — 

"  You  are  right,  Bracy.  It  is  nonsense  deny- 
ing the  young  fellow's  talent ;  but  his  Othello, 
now,  Bracy !  be  just  —  his  Othello  !  " 

"  0  dear !  O  dear  !  "  cried  she  ;  "  I  thought  it 
was  Desdemona's  Httle  black  boy  come  in  without 
the  tea  kettle." 

Quin  laughed  uproariously. 

"  It  made  me  laugh  a  deal  more  than  Mr. 
Quin's  Falstafi".     O  dear  !  O  dear  !  " 


PEG    WOFFIXGTON.  49 

•*  Falstaff,  indeed  !  Snuff!  "  in  the  tone  of  a 
trumpet. 

Quin  secretly  revoked  his  good  opinion  of  this 
woman's  sense. 

"  Madam,"  said  the  page,  timidly,  "  if  you 
would  but  favor  us  with  a  specimen  of  the  old 
style  ! " 

'*  "Well,  child,  why  not  ?  Only  what  makes 
you  mumble  like  that  ?  but  they  all  do  it  now,  I 
see.  Bless  my  soul !  our  words  used  to  come  out 
like  brandy  cherries  ;  but  now  a  sentence  is  like 
raspberry  jam,  on  the  stage  and  off." 

Gibber  chuckled. 

'^And  why  don't  you  men  cany  yourselves 
like  Gibber  here  ?  " 

"  Don't  press  that  question,"  said  Golly,  dryly 

'^A  monstrous  poor  actor,  though,"  said  the 
merciless  old  woman,  in  a  mock  aside  to  the 
others ;  "  only  twenty  shillings  a  week  for  half 
his  life !  "  and  her  shoulders  went  up  to  her 
ears ;  then  she  fell  into  a  hatf  revery.  "  Yes, 
we  were  distinct,"  said  she ;  "  but  I  must  own, 
children,  we  were  slow.  Once,  in  the  midst  of  a 
beautiful  tirade,  my  lover  went  to  sleep,  and  fell 
against  me.  A  mighty  pretty  epigram,  twenty 
5 


50  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

lines,  was  writ  on't  by  one  of  my  gallants.  Have 
ye  as  many  of  them  as  we  used  ? " 

"  In  that  respect/'  said  the  page,  "we  are  not 
behind  our  great-grandmothers." 

"  I  call  that  pert,"  said  Mrs.  Bracegirdle,  with 
the  air  of  one  drawing  scientific  distinctions. 
"  Now,  is  that  a  boy  or  a  lady  that  spoke  to  me 
last  ?  " 

"  By  its  dress,  I  should  say  a  boy,"  said  Gib- 
ber, with  his  glass ;  "  by  its  assurance,  a  lady." 

*^  There's  one  clever  woman  amongst  ye  ;  Peg 
something  ;  plays  Lothario,  Lady  Betty  Modish, 
and  what  not." 

"  What !  admire  Woffington  ?  "  screamed  Mrs. 
Clive.  "  Why,  she  is  the  greatest  gabbler  on  the 
stage." 

"  I  don't  care,"  was  the  reply ;  "  there's  na- 
ture about  the  jade.  Don't  contradict  me ! "  added 
she,  with  sudden  fury  ;  "  a  parcel  of  childi*en  !  '* 

"  No,  madam,"  said  Clive,  humbly.  "  Mr.  Gib- 
ber, will  you  try  und  prevail  on  Mrs.  Bracegirdle 
to  favor  us  with  a  recitation  ?  " 

Gibber  handed  his  cane,  with  pomp,  to  a  small 
actor.  Bracegirdle  did  the  same ;  and  striking 
the  attitudes  that  had  passed  for  heroic  in  their 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  51 

day,  they  declaimed  out  of  the  "  Rival  Queens  " 
two  or  thi'ee  tirades,  which  I  graciously  spare  the 
reader  of  this  tale.  Their  elocution  was  neat  and 
silvery ;  but  not  one  bit  Hke  the  way  people  speak 
in  streets,  palaces,  fields,  roads,  and  rooms.  They 
had  not  made  the  grand  discovery  which  Mr.  A 
Wigan  on  the  stage,  and  eveiy  man  of  sense  off 
it,  has  made  in  our  day  and  nation  —  namely, 
that  the  stage  is  a  representation  not  of  stage,  but 
of  life ;  and  that  an  actor  ought  to  speak  and  act 
in  imitation  of  human  beings,  not  of  speaking 
machines  that  have  run  and  creaked  in  a  stage 
groove,  with  their  eyes  shut  upon  the  world  at 
large,  upon  nature,  upon  truth,  upon  man,  upon 
woman,  and  upon  child. 

"  This  is  slow,"  cried  Gibber ;  "  let  us  show 
these  young  people  how  ladies  and  gentlemen 
moved  fifty  years  ago,  dansons.^^ 

A  fiddler  was  caught,  a  beautiful  slow  minuet 
played,  and  a  bit  of  "  solemn  dancing "  done. 
Certainly  it  was  not  gay ;  but  it  must  be  owned 
it  was  beautiful  :  it  was  the  dance  of  kings  ;  the 
poetry  of  the  courtly  saloon. 

The  retired  actress,  however,  had  jfiriskier  no- 
tions left  in  her.     "  This  is  slow,"  cried  she,  and 


5^  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

bade  the  fiddler  play  "  The  wind  that  shakes  the 
barley  "  —  an  ancient  jig  tune.  This  she  danced 
to  in  a  style  that  utterly  astounded  the  spectators 

She  showed  them  what  fun  was  :  her  feet  and 
her  stick  were  all  echoes  to  the  mad  strain ;  out 
went  her  heel  behind,  and  returning,  di'ove  her 
four  yards  forward.  She  made  unaccountable 
slants,  and  cut  them  all  over  in  turn  if  they  did 
not  jump  for  it.  Koars  of  inextinguishable  laugh- 
ter arose ;  it  would  have  made  an  oyster  merry. 
Suddenly  she  stopped,  and  put  her  hands  to  her 
sides  ;  and  soon  after  she  gave  a  vehement  cry 
of  pain. 

The  laughter  ceased. 

She  gave  another  cry  of  such  agony  that  they 
were  all  round  her  in  a  moment. 

^^  0,  help  me,  ladies  !  "  screamed  the  pooi 
woman,  in  tones  as  feminine  as  they  were  heart- 
rending and  piteous.  "  O,  my  back  !  my  loins  ! 
I  suffer,  gentlemen/'  said  the  poor  thing,  faintly. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  Mr.  Vane  offered  his 
penknife  to  cut  her  laces. 

"  You  shall  cut  my  head  off  sooner,"  cried  she 
with  sudden  energy.     "  Don't  pity  me,"  said  she 
sadly,  "  I  don't  deserve  it ;  "  then  hfting  her  eyes 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  bS 

she  exclaimed,  with  a  sad  aii*  of  self-reproach, 
"  O  vanity  !  do  you  never  leave  a  woman  ?  " 

*'Nay,  madam,"  whimpered  -the  page,  who 
was  a  good  hearted  giii ;  "  'twas  your  great 
Qomplaisance  for  us,  not  vanity.  O,  O,  O ! " 
and  she  began  to  blubber  to  make  matters  better. 

"  No,  my  childi'en,"  said  the  old  lady,  "  'twas 
vanity.  I  wanted  to  show  you  what  an  old 
'oman  could  do,  and  I  have  humiliated  myseK, 
trying  to  outshine  younger  folk.  I  am  justly 
humiliated,  as  you  see  ;  "  and  she  began  to  cry  a 
little.  ■  ■ 

"  This  is  very  painful,"  said  Gibber. 

Mrs.  Bracegirdle  now  raised  her  eyes,  (they 
had  set  her  in  a  chair,)  and  looking  sweetly,  ten- 
derly, and  earnestly  on  her  old  compani'on,  she 
said  to  him,  slowly,  gently,  but  impressively,  — 

"  Colly,  at  threescore  years  and  ten,  this  was 
ill  done  of  us.  You  and  I  are  here  now  —  for 
what  ?  to  cheer  the  young  up  the  hill  we  jnounted 
years  ago.  And,  old  fi'iend,  if  we  detract  from 
them  we  discourage  them.  A  great  sin  in  the 
old." 

"  Every  dog  his  day." 

"  We  have  had  ours."     Here  she  smiled  ;  then 


54  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

laying  licr  hand  tenderly  in  the  old  man's^  sho 
added,  with  calm  solemnity,  "  And  now  we  must 
go  quietly  towarrds  our  rest,  and  strut  and  fi'et 
no  more  the  few  last  minutes  of  life's  fleeting 
hour." 

How  tame  my  cacotype  of  these  words  com- 
pared with  what  they  were !  I  am  ashamed  of 
them  and  myself,  and  the  human  craft  of  writing, 
which,  though  commoner  far,  is  so  miserably  be 
hind  the  godhke  art  of  speech.  Si  ipsam  audi- 
visses  ! 

These  ink  scratches,  which,  in  the  imperfection 
of  language  we  have  called  words,  till  the  un- 
thinking actually  di'eam  they  are  words,  but 
which  are  the  shadows  of  the  corpses  of  words ; 
these  ^ord-shadows  then  were  living  powers  on 
her  lips,  and  subdued,  as  eloquence  always  does, 
every  heart  within  reach  of  the  imperial  tongue. 

The  young  loved  her,  and  the  old  man,  soft- 
ened and  vanquished,  and  mindful  of  his  failing 
life,  was  silent,  and  pressed  his  handkerchief 
to  his  eyes  a  moment ;  then  he  said,  — 

'^  No,  Bracy  ;  no  !  Be  composed,  I  pray  you. 
She  is  right.  Young  people,  forgive  me  that  I 
love  the  dead  too  well,  and  the  days  when  I  was 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  65 

what  you  are  now.  Drat  the  woman/'  continued 
he,  half  ashamed  of  liis  emotion ;  "^  she  makes  us 
laugh,  and  makes  us  cry,  just  as  she  used." 

"  What  does  he  say,  young  woman  ?  "  said  the 
old  lady,  ^yly,  to  Mrs.  Clive. 

"He  says  you  make  us  laugh,  and  make  us 
cry,  madam  ;  and  so  you  do  me,  I'm  sure." 

"And  that's  Peg  Woffington's  notion  of  an 
actress !  Better  it.  Gibber  and  Bracegirdle,  if 
you  can,"  said  the  other,  rising  up  like  light- 
ning. 

She  then  threw  Colly  Gibber  a  note,  and 
walked  coolly  and  rapidly  out  of  the  room,  with- 
out looking  once  behind  her. 

The  rest  stood  transfixed,  looking  at  one  an- 
other, and  at  the  empty  chair.  Then  Gibber 
opened  and  read  the  note  aloud.  It  was  from 
Mrs.  Bracegirdle  :  "  Playing  at  tric-trac  ;  so  can't 
play  the  fool  in  your  greenroom  to  night.  —  B." 

On  this  a  musical,  ringing  laugh  was  heard 
fi'om  outside  the  door,  where  the  pseudo  Brace- 
girdle  was  washing  the  gray  from  her  hair,  and 
the  wrinkles  from  her  face,  —  ah,  I  wish  I  could 
do  it  as  easily,  —  and  the  little  bit  of  sticking 
plaster  from  her  front  tooth. 


56  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Why,  it  is  the  Irish  jade  !  "  roared  Gibber. 

"  Divil   a   less ! "   rang  back  a  rich   brogue 
'*  and  it's  not  the  farst  time  we  put  the  comether 
upon  ye,  England,  my  jewal !  " 

One  more  mutual  glance,  and  then  ihe  mortal 
cleverness  of  all  this  began  to  dawn  on  their 
minds  ;  and  they  broke  forth  into  clapping  of 
hands,  and  gave  tliis  accomplished  mime  three 
rounds  of  applause  ;  Mr.  Vane  and  Sir  Charle« 
Pomander  leading  with  "  Brava,  Woffington !  " 

Its  effect  on  Mr.  Vane  may  be  imagined. 
"Who  but  she  could  have  done  this  ?  This  was 
as  if  a  painter  should  so  paint  a  man  as  to  de- 
ceive his  species.  This  was  acting,  but  not  like 
the  acftng  of  the  stage.  He  was  in  transports, 
and  self-satisfaction  at  his  own  judgment  min- 
gled pleasantly  with  his  admiration. 

In  this  cheerful  exhibition  one  joined  not  — 
Mr.  Gibber.  His  theories  had  received  a  shock, 
and  we  all  love  oui-  theories.  He  himself 
had  received  a  rap,  and  we  don't  hate  our- 
selves. 

Great  is  the  syllogism  !  But  there  is  a  class 
of  arguments  less  vulnerable. 

If  A  says  to  B,  "  You  can't  hit  me,  as  I  prove 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  •  57 

by  tliis  syllogism/'  (here  followeth  the  syllogism,) 
and  B,  pour  toute  reponse,  knocks  A  down  such 
a  whack  that  he  rebounds  into  a  sitting  posture  ; 
and  to  him  the  man,  the  tree,  the  lamp  post,  and 
the  fii'e  escape  become  not  clearly  distinguisha- 
ble ;  this  barbarous  logic  prevails  against  the 
logic  in  Barbara,  and  the  syllogism  is  in  the  pre- 
dicament of  Humpty  Dumpty. 

In  this  predicament  was  the  poet  laureate 
'*  The  miscreant  Proteus  (could  not)  escape  these 
chains  !  "  So  the  miscreant  Proteus  —  no  bad 
name  for  an  old  actor  —  took  his  little  cocked 
hat  and  marched,  a  smaller,  if  not  a  wiser  man. 
Some  disjointed  words  fell  from  him,  "  Mimicry 
is  not  acting,"  &c.  ;  and  with  one  bitter,  mowing 
glance  at  the  applauders,  circumferens  acriter  oc- 
ulos,  he  vanished  in  the  largest  pinch  of  snuff  on 
record.     The  rest  dispersed  more  slowly. 

Mr.  Vane  waited  eagerly,  and  watched  the 
door  for  Mrs.  Woffington ;  but  she  did  not  come. 
He  then  made  acquaintance  with  good  natured 
Mr.  Quin,  who  took  him  upon  the  stage,  and 
showed  him  by  what  vulgar  appliances  that  ma- 
jestic rise  of  the  curtain  he  so  much  admired  was 
effected.      Betuming  to  the  greenroom  for  hi^ 


58  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

fiiend,  he  found  liim  in  animated  conversation 
with  Mrs.  Woftington.     This  made  Vane  uneasy. 

Sir  Chai'les,  up  to  the  present  moment  of  the 
evening,  had  been  unwontedly  silent,  and  now  he 
was  talking  nineteen  to  the  dozen,  and  Mrs.  Wof- 
fington  was  hstening  with  an  appearance  of  in- 
terest that  sent  a  pang  to  poor  Vane's  heart ;  he 
begged  Mr.  Quin  to  introduce  him. 

Mr.  Quin  introduced  him. 

The  lady  received  his  advances  with  pohte 
composure.  Mr.  Yane  stammered  his  admiration 
of  her  Bracegirdle  ;  but  all  he  could  find  words 
to  say  was  mere  general  praise,  and  somewhat 
coldly  received.  Sir  Charles,  on  the  contrary, 
spoke  more  like  a  critic.  "  Had  you  given  us 
the  stage  cackle,  or  any  of  those  traditionary 
symptoms  of  old  age,  we  should  have  instantly 
detected  you,"  said  he  ;  "  but  this  was  art  copy- 
ing nature,  and  it  may  be  years  before  such  a  tri- 
umph of  illusion  is  again  effected  under  so  many 
adverse  circumstances." 

"  You  are  very  good.  Sir  Charles,"  was  the  re- 
ply. *'  You  flatter  me.  It  was  one  of  those  things 
which  look  greater  than  they  are ;  nobody  here 
knew  Bracegirdle  but  Mr.  Cibber ;  Mr.  Cibber 


pe6  woffington.  59 

cannot  see  well  without  liis  glasses,  and  I  got  rid 
of  one  of  tlie  candles  ;  I  sent  one  of  the  imps 
of  the  theatre  to  knock  it  down.  I  know  Mrs. 
Bracegirdle  by  heart.  I  drink  tea  with  her  every 
Sunday.  I  had  her  dress  on,  and  I  gave  the  old 
boy  her  words  and  her  way  of  thinking  ;  it  was 
mere  mimicry  ;  it  was  nothing  compared  with 
what  I  once  did  ;  but,  ahem  !  " 

"  Pray  tell  us  !  " 

'^  I  am  afraid  I  shall  shock  your  firiend.  I  see 
he  is  not  a  wicked  man  Kke  you^  and  perhaps 
does  not  know  what  good-for- '  othing  creatures 
actresses  are." 

"  He  is  not  so  ignorant  as  he  looks,"  repKed 
Sr^  Charles. 

"  That  is  not  quite  the  answer  I  expected.  Sir 
Charles,"  replied  this  lively  lady  ;  "  but  it  serves 
me  right  for  fishing  on  dry  land.  Well,  then, 
you  must  know,  a  young  gentleman  courted  me. 
I  forget  whether  I  liked  him  or  not ;  but  you 
will  fancy  I  hated  him,  for  I  promised  to  marry 
him.  You  mnst  understand,  gentlemen,  that  I 
was  sent  into  the  world,  not  to  act,  which  I  abom- 
inate, but  to  chronicle  small  beer  and  teach  an 
army  of  little  brats  their  letters  ;    so  this   word 


60  PEG     WOFFINGTON. 

'  wife/  and  that  word  '  cliimney  corner,'  took 
possession  of  my  mind,  and  a  vision  of  darning 
stockings  for  a  large  party,  all  my  own,  filled  my 
heart,  and  really  I  felt  quite  grateful  to  the  little 
brute  that  was  to  give  me  all  this,  and  he  would 
have  had  such  a  wife  as  men  never  do  have,  still 
less  deserve.  But  one  fine  day  that  the  theatre 
left  me  time  to  examine  his  manner  towai'ds 
me,  I  instantly  discovered  he  was  deceiving  me. 
So  I  had  him  watched,  and  the  little  brute  was 
going  to  many  another  woman,  and  break  it  to 
me  by  degrees  afterwards,  &c.  You  know.  Sir 
Charles  ?     Ah,  I  see  you  do. 

"  I  found  her  out ;  got  an  introduction  to  her 
father ;  went  down  to  his  house  three  days  before 
the  marriage,  with '  a  little  coal-black  mustache^ 
regimentals,  and  what  not,  made  up,  in  short, 
with  the  art  of  my  sex,  gentlemen,  and  the  im 
pudence  of  yours. 

"  The  fij:st  day  I  flirted  and  danced  with  the 
bride.  The  second  I  made  love  to  her,  and  at 
night  I  let  her  know  that  her  intended  was  a  vil- 
lain. I  showed  her  letters  of  his  ;  protestations, 
oaths  of  eternal 'fidelity  to  one  Peg  Woffington, 
*  who  will  die,'  drawled  I,  if  he  betrays  her. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.    '  61 

"  And  here,  gentlemen,  mark  the  justice  of 
Heaven.  I  received  a  back-handed  slap  :  '  Peg 
Woffington !  an  actress  !  O,  the  villain ! '  cried 
she  ;  '  let  him  marry  the  little  vagabond.  How 
dare  he  insult  me  with  his  hand  that  had  been 
offered  in  such  a  quarter  ! ' 

"  So,  in  a  fit  of  virtuous  indignation,  tlje  little 
hypocrite  dismissed  the  httle  brute ;  in  other 
words,  she  had  fallen  in  love  with  me. 

"  I  have  not  had  many  happy  hours,  but  I  re- 
member it  was  delicious  to  look  out  of  my  win- 
dow, and  at  the  same  moment  smell  the  honey- 
suckles and  see  my  perjide  dismissed  under  a  heap 
of  scorn  and  a  pile  of  luggage  he  had  brought 
down  for  his  wedding  tour. 

"  I  scampered  up  to  London,  laughing  all  the 
way  ;  and  when  I  got  home,  if  I  remember  right, 
I  cried  for  two  hours.  How  do  you  account  for 
that?" 

"  I  hope,  madam,"  said  Vane,  gravely,  "  it  was 
remorse  for  having  trifled  with  that  poor  young 
lady's  heart ;  she  had  never  injui-ed  you." 

"  But,  sir,  the  husband  I  robbed  her  of  was  a 
brute  and  a  villain  in  his  little  way,  and  wicked, 
and  good  for  nothing,  &c.     He  would  have  de- 


62  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

ceived  that  poor  little  hypocrite,  as  he  had  this 
one,"  pointing  to  herself. 

^*  That  is  not  what  I  mean  ;  you  inspired  her 
with  an  attachment,  never  to  be  forgotten.  Poor 
lady ;  how  many  sleepless  nights  has  she  passed 
since  then,  how  many  times  has  she  strained  her 
eyes  te  see  her  angel  lover  returning  to  her! 
She  will  not  forget  in  two  years  the  love  it  cost 
you  but  two  days  to  inspire.  The  powerful 
should  be  merciful.  Ah  !  I  fear  you  have  no 
heart." 

These  words  had  no  sooner  burst  from  Mi. 
Vane,  than  he  was  conscious  of  the  strange  liberty 
he  had  taken,  and,  indeed,  the  bad  taste  he  had 
been  guilty  of;  and  this  feeling  was  not  lessened 
when  he  saw  Mrs.  Woffington  color  up  to  the 
temples.  Her  eyes,  too,  glittered  like  basilisks  ; 
but  she  said  nothing,  which  was  remarkable  in 
her,  whose  tongue  was  the  sword  of  a  maitre 
d^armes. 

Sir  Charles  eyed  his  friend  in  a  sly,  satirical 
manner ;  he  then  said,  laughingly,  "  In  two 
months  she  married  a  third !  don't  waste  your 
sympathy,"  and  turned  the  talk  into  another 
channel ;  and  soon  after,  Mrs.  Woffington's  maid 


PEG    WOFFINGTOK.       '  63 

appeapng  at  tlie  door,  she  curtesied  to  both  gentle- 
men, and  left  the  theatre.  Sir  Charles  Pomander 
accompanied  Mr.  Vane  a  little  way. 

"  What  becomes  of  her  innocence  ? "  was  his 
first  word. 

"  One  loses  sight  of  it  in  her  immense  talent," 
said  the  lover. 

"  She  certainly  is  clever  in  all  that  bears  upon 
he? business,"  was  the  reply  ;  "but  I  noticed  you 
were  a  little  shocked  with  her  indeHcacy  in  tell- 
ing us  that  story,  and  still  more  in  having  it 
to  teU." 

"Indelicacy?  No!"  said  Vane;  "the  little 
brute  deserved  it.  Good  heavens !  to  think  that 
^a  Httle  brute'  might  have  married  that  angel, 
and  actually  broke  faith  to  lose  her ;  it  is  incred- 
ible ;  the  crime  is  diluted  by  the  absurdity." 

"  Have  you  heard  him  tell  the  story  ?  No  ? 
Then  take  my  word  for  it,  you  have  not  heard 
the  facts  of  the  case." 

"  Ah !  you  are  prejudiced  against  her  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  like  her.  But  I  know 
that  with  all  women,  the  present  lover  is  an 
angel  and  the  past  a  demon,  and  so  on  in  tui'n. 
And  I  know  that  if  Satan  were  to  enter  the  wo- 


64  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

men  of  the  stage,  with  the  wild  idea  of  impairing 
theu'  veracity,  he  would  come  out  of  their  minds 
a- greater  liar  than  he  went  in,  and  the  innocent 
darhngs  would  ne"V%r  know  their  spiritual  father 
had  been  at  them." 

Doubtfid  whether  this  sentiment  and  period 
could  be  improved.  Sir  Charles  parted  with  his 
friend,  leaving  his  sting  in  him  like  a  friend  ;  the 
other's  reflections  as  he  sauntered  home  were  not 
strictly  those  of  a  wise,  well-balanced  mind ;  they 
ran  in  this  style  :  — 

"  When  she  said,  '  Is  not  that  to  praise  my 
person  at  the  expense  of  my  wit  ? '  I  ought  to 
have  said,  *  Nay,  madam ;  could  your  wit  dis- 
guise your  person,  it  would  betray  itself;  so  you 
would  still  shine  confessed ; '  and  instead  of  that 
I  said  nothing  !  " 

He  then  ran  over  in  his  mind  all  the  opportu 
nities  he  had  had  for  putting  in  something  smart, 
and  bitterly  regretted  those  lost  opportimities  ; 
and  made  the  smart  things,  and  beat  the  air  with 
them.  Then  his  cheeks  tingled  when  he  remem- 
bered that  he  had  almost  scolded  her ;  and  he 
concocted  a  very  diiferent  speech,  and  straight- 
way repeated  it  in  imagination. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  tO 

This  is  lovers'  pastime  ;  I  own  it  funny  ;  but 
it  is  open  to  one  objection  :  ttds  single  practice  of 
sitting  upon  eggs  no  longer  chickenable,  carried 
to  a  habit,  is  capable  of  turning  a  solid  intellect 
into  a4iquid  one,  and  ruining  a  mind's  career 

We  leave  Mr.  Vane,  therefore,  with  a  hope 
that  he  will  not  do  it  every  night ;  and  we  fol- 
low his  Mend  to  the  close  of  our  chapter. 

Hey  for  a  definition  ! 

What  is  diplomacy  ?  Is  it  folly  in  a  coat  that 
looks  like  sagacity  ?  Had  Sir  Charles  Pomander, 
instead  of  watching  Mr.  Vane  and  Mrs.  Woffing- 
ton,  asked  the  former  whether  he  admired  the 
latter,  and  whether  the  latter  responded,  straight- 
forward Vane  would  have  told  him  the  whole 
truth  in  a  minute.  Diplomacy  therefore  was,  as 
it  often  is,  a  waste  of  time. 

But  diplomacy  did  more  in  this  case  ;  it  sajpien 
ter  descendehat  in  fossam  ;  it  fell  on  its  nose  with 
gymnastic  dexterity,  as  it  generally  does,  upon 
my  word. 

.  To  watch  Mrs.  Woffington's  face  vis-a-vis  Mr. 
Vane,  Pomander  introduced  Vane  to  the  green- 
room of  the  Theatre  Royal,  Covent  Garden.     By 
this    Pomander   learned   nothing,  because    Mrs. ' 
6 


66  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

Woffington  had,  with  a  wonderful  appearance  of 
openness,  the  closest  face  in  Europe  when  she 
chose. 

On  the  other  hand,  by  introducing  this  country 
gentleman  to  this  greenroom,  he  gave  a  mighty 
impulse  and  opportunity  to  Vane's  love  ;  an  op- 
portunity which  he  forgot  the  timid,  inexperienced 
Damon  might  otherwise  never  have  found. 

Here  diplomacy  was  not  policy,  for  as  my  sa- 
gacious reader  has  perhaps  divined.  Sir  Charles 
Pomander  was  after  her  himself. 


CHAPTER    III. 

Yes  :  Sir  Charles  was  after  Miss  Woffington. 
I  use  that  phrase  because  it  is  a  fine  generic  one, 
suitable  to  different  kinds  of  love-making. 

Mr.  Vane's  sentiments  were  an  inexplicable 
compound ;  but  respect,  enthusiasm,  and  deep  ad- 
miration were  the  uppermost. 

The  good  Sir  Charles  was  no  enigma  :  he  had 
a  vacancy  in  his  estabhshment  —  a  very  high 
situation,  too,  for  those  who  like  that  sort  of 
thing  —  the  head  of  his  table,  his  left  hand  when 
he  drove  in  the  Park,  &c.  To  this  he  proposed 
to  promote  Miss  Woffington.  She  was  handsome 
and  witty,  and  he  liked  her.  But  that  was  not 
what  caused  him  to  pursue  her ;  slow,  sagacious, 
inevitable,  as  a  beagle. 

She  was   celebrated,   and  would  confer  great 

eclat  on  him.     The  scandal  of  possessing  her  was 

a  bui-ning  temptation.     Women  admu'e  celebrity 

in  a  man  ;  but  men  adore  it  in  a  woman. 

(67) 


68  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  The  world  says,  Philip  is  a  famous  man  ; 
TMiat  will  not  women  love  so  taught?  " 

I  will  try  to  answer  tHs  question. 

The  women  will  more  readily  forgive  disgust 
ing  physical  deformity  for  Fame's  sake,  than  we. 
They  would  embrace  with  more  rapture  a  famous 
orang-outang^ than  we  an  illustrious  chimpanzee; 
but  when  it  comes  to  moral  defcfrmity  the  tables 
are  turned. 

Had  the  queen  pardoned  Mr.  Greenacre  and 
Mrs.  Manning,  would  the  great  rush  have  been 
on  the  hero,  or  the  heroine?  Why,  on  Mrs. 
Macbeth!  To  her  would  the  blackguards  have 
brought  honorable  proposals,  and  the  gentry  lib- 
eral ones. 

Greenacre  would  have  found  more  female  ad- 
mirers than  I  ever  shall ;  but  the  grand  stream 
of  sexual  admiration  would  have  set  Mariawards. 
This  fact  is  as  dark  as  night ;  but  it  is  as  sure  as 
the  sun. 

The  next  day  "the  friends"  (most  laughable 
of  human  substantives !)  met  in  the  theatre,  and 
again  visited  the  greenroom ;  and  this  time  Vane 
determined  to  do  himself  more  justice.  He  was 
again    disappointed  :    the    actress's    manner  was 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  69 

ceremoniously  polite.  She  was  almost  constant- 
ly on  the  stage,  and  in  a  hurry  when  off  it ;  and 
when  there  was  a  word  to  be  got  with*  her,  the 
ready,  glib  Sir  Charles  was  sure  to  get  it.  Vane 
could  not  help  thinking  it  hard  that  a  man  who 
professed  no  respect  for  her,  should  thus  keep 
the  light  firom  him ;  and  he  could  hardly  conceal 
his  satisfaction,  when  Pomander,  at  night,  bade 
him  farewell  for  a  fortnight  Pressing  business 
took  Sir  Charles  into  the  country. 

The  good  Sir  Charles,  however,  could  not  go 
without  leaving  his  sting  behind  as  a  companion 
to  his  friend.  He  called  on  Mr.  Vane,  and  after 
a  short  preface,  containing  the  words,  "  our 
friendship,"  "  old  kindness,"  "  my  greater  expe- 
rience," he  gravely  warned  him  against  Mrs. 
Woffington. 

"  Not  that  I  would  say  this  if  you  could  take 
her  for  what  she  is,  and  amuse  yourself  with  her 
as  she  will  with  you,  if  she  thinks  it  worth  her 
while.  But  I  see  you  have  a  heart,  and  she  will 
make  a  football  of  it,  and  torment  you  beyond  all 
you  have  ever  conceived  of  human  anguish." 

Mr.  Vane  colored  high,  and  was  about  to  inter- 
rupt the  speaker  ;  but  he  continued,  — 


70  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  There,  I  am  in  a  hurry.  But  ask  Quin,  oi 
any  body  who  knows  her  history ;  you  will  find 
she  has  had  scores  of  lovers,  and  no  one  remains 
her  friend  after  they  part." 

"  Men  are,  such  villains  !  " 

"  Very  likely/'  was  the  reply ;  "  but  twenty 
men  don't  ill  use  one  good  woman  :  those  are 
not  the  proportions.     Adieu." 

This  last  hit  frightened  Mr.  Vane  ;  he  began 
to  look  into  himself;  he  could  not  but  feel  that 
he  was  a  mere  child  in  this  woman's  hands ;  and 
more  than  that,  his  conscience  told  him  that  if 
his  heart  should  be  made  a  football  of,  it  would 
only  be  a  just  and  probable  punishment.  For 
there  were  particular  reasons  why  he,  of  all  men, 
had  no  business  to  look  twice  at  any  woman 
whose  name  was  Woffington. 

That  night  he  avoided  the  greenroom,  though 
he  could  not  forego  the  play  ;  but  the  next  night 
he  determined  to  stay  at  home  altogether.  Ac- 
cordingly, at  five  o'clock,  the  astounded  box 
keeper  wore  a  visage  of  dismay  —  there  was  no 
shilling  for  him !  and  Mr.  Vane's  nightly  shil- 
ling had  assumed  the  sanctity  of  salary  in  his 
mind. 


^PEG    WOFFINGTON.^  71 

Mr.  Vane  strolled  disconsolate  ;  he  strolled  by 
tlie  Thames,  he  strolled  up  and  down  the  Strand ; 
and  finally,  having  often  admired  the  wisdom  of 
moths  in  their  gradual  approach  to  what  is  not 
good  for  them,  he  strolled  into  th^  greenroom, 
Covent  Garden,  and  sat  down.  When  there,  he 
did  not  feel  happy.  Besides,  she  had  always 
been  cold  to  tiim,  and  had  given  no  sign  of 
desiring  his  acquaintance,  still  less  of  recognition. 

Mr.  Vane  had  often  seen  a  weathercock  at 
work  ;  and  he  had  heard  a  woman  compared  to 
it ;  but  he  had  never  reahzed  the  simplicity, 
beauty,  and  justice  of  the  simile.  He  was  there- 
fore surprised,  as  well  as  thrilled,  when  Mrs. 
Woffington,  so  cool,  ceremonious,  and  distant 
hitherto,  walked  up  to  him  in  the  greenroom, 
with  a  face  quite  wreathed  in  smiles,  and  with- 
out preliminary,  thanked  him  for  all  the  beauti 
ftd  flowers  he  had  sent  her. 

"  What,  Mrs.  Woffington  —  what,  you  recog- 
mze  me  i 

"  Of  course  ;  and  have  been  foolish  enough  to 
feel  quite  supported  by  the  thought  I  had  at  least 
one  friend  in  the  house.  But,"  said  she,  looking 
down,   ^^  now  you  must  not  be  angry ;  here  are 


72  PEG    V\  OFFINGTON.  , 

some  stones  that  have  fallen  somehow  among  the 
flowers  ;  I  am  going  to  give  you  them  back,  be- 
cause I  value  flowers  so  I  cannot  have  them 
mixed  with  any  tiling  else  ;  but  don't  ask  me  for 
a  flower  bacf  added  she,  seeing  the  color  mount 
on  his  face,  "  for  I  would  not  give  one  of  them 
to  you  or  any  body." 

Imagine  the  efiect  of  this  on  a  A)mantic  dispo- 
sition like  Mr.  Vane's. 

He  told  her  how  glad  he  was  that  she  could 
distinguish  his  features  amidst  the  crowd  of  her 
admirers ;  he  confessed  he  had  been  mortified 
when  he  found  himself,  as  he  thought,  entirely  a 
stranger  to  her. 

She  interrupted  him. 

"Do  you  know  your  Mend,  Sir  Charles  Po 
mander  ?  No  !  I  am  almost  sure  you  do  ;  well, 
he  is  a  man  I  do  not  like.  He  is  deceitful ;  be-: 
sides,  he  is  a  wicked  man.  There,  to  be  plain 
with  you,  he  was  watching  me  all  that  night,  the 
first  time  you  came  here  ;  and  because  I  saw  he 
was  watching  me,  I  would  not  know  who  you 
were,  nor  any  thing  about  you." 

"  But  you  looked  as  if  you  had  never  seen  me 
before." 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  73 

"Of  course  I  did,  wlien  I  had  made  up  my 
mind  to/'  said  the  actress,  naively. 

"  Sir  Charles  has  left  London  for  a  fortnight ; 
so  if  he  is  the  only  obstacle,  I  hope  you  wiU 
know  me  every  night." 

"  Why,  you  sent  me  no  flowers  yesterday,  or 
to-day." 

"But  I  will  to-morrow." 

"  Then  I  am  sure  I  shall  know  your  face  again  : 
good  by.  Won't  you  see  me  in  the  last  act,  and 
tell  me  how  ill  I  do  it  ? " 

"  O,  yes !  "  and  he  hurried  to  his  box ;  and  so 
the  actress  secured  one  pair  of  hands  for  her 
last  act. 

He  returned  to  the  greenroom,  but  she  did  not 
revisit  that  verdant  bower.  The  next  night,  after 
the  usual  compliments,  she  said  to  him,  looking 
down  with  a  sweet,  engaging  air,  — 

"  I  sent  a  messenger  into  the  country  to  know 
about  that  lady." 

"  What  lady  ?  "  said  Vane,  scarcely  beheving 
his  senses. 

"  Xhat  you  were  so  unkind  to  me  about." 

"  I,  unkind  to  you  ?  what  a  brute  I  must  be  !  " 

"  My  meaning  is,  you  justly  rebuked  me,  only 
7 


74  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

you  should  not  tell  an  actress  she  has  no  heart  — 
that  is  always  understood.  Well,  Sir  Charles 
Pomander  said  she  married  a  third  in  two 
months  !  " 

"And  did  she?" 

"  No,  it  was  in  six  weeks  ;  that  man  never 
tells  the  truth,  and  since  then  she  has  married 
a  foui'th." 

"I  am  glad  of  it !  " 

"  So  am  I,  since  you  awakened  my  conscience." 

Dehcious  flattery !  and  of  all  flattery  the 
sweetest,  when  a  sweet  creatm-e  does  flattery, 
not  merely  utters  it. 

After  this  Vane  made  no  more  struggles.  He 
surrendered  himself  to  the  charming  seduction, 
and  as  his  advances  were  respectful,  but  ardent 
and  incessant,  he  found  himself  at  the  end  of  a 
fortnight  Mrs.  "Woflington's  professed  lover. 

They  wrote  letters  to  each  other  every  day. 
On  Sunday  they  went  to  chui'ch  together  in  the 
morning,  and  spent  the  afternoon  in  the  subufbs 
wherever  grass  was  and  dust  was  not. 

In  the  next  fortnight,  poor  Vane  thougjit  he 
had  pretty  well  fathomed  this  extraordinary  wo- 
man's character.  Plumb  the  Atlantic  with  an 
eighty  fathom   line,   sir  ! 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  75 

"  She  is  religious,"  said  he ;  "  she  loves  a 
church  much  better  than  a  playhouse,  and  she 
never  laughs  nor  goes  to  sleep  in  church,  as  I  do. 
And  she  is  breaking  me  of  swearing  —  by  de- 
grees. She  says  that  no  fashion  can  justify  what 
is  profane,  and  that  it  must  be  vulgar  as  well  as 
wicked.  And  she  is  firankness  and  simphcity 
itself." 

Another  thing  that  charmed  him  was  her  dis- 
interestedness. She  ordered  him  to  buy  her  a 
present  every  day,  but  it  was  never  to  cost  above 
a  shilling.  If  an  article  could  be  found  that  cost 
exactly  ten  pence,  (a  favorite  sum  of  hers,)  she 
was  particularly  pleased ;  and  these  shilling  pres- 
ents were  received  with  a  flush  of  pleasure  and 
brightening  eyes  ;  but  when  one  day  he  appeared 
with  a  diamond  necklace,  it  was  taken  very  cold- 
ly ;  he  was  not  even  thanked  for  it ;  and  he  was 
made  to  feel,  once  for  all,  that  the  tenpenny 
ones  were  the  best  investments  towards  her 
favor. 

Then  he  found  out  that  she  was  very  prudent 
and, rather  stingy;  of  Spartan  simplicity  in  her 
diet,  and  a  scorner  of  dress  off  the  stage.  To 
redeem  this  she  was  charitable,  and  her  charity 


76  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

and  her   economy   sometimes  had  a   sore   fight 
dm'ing  which  she  was  peevish,  poor  little  soul. 

One  day  she  made  him  a  request. 

"  I  can't  bear  you  should  think  me  worse  than 
I  am,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  think  me  better 
than  I  am." 

Vane  trembled, 

"  But  don't  speak  to  others  about  me.  Prom- 
ise, and  I  will  promise  to  tell  you  my  whole 
story,  whenever  you  are  entitled  to  such  a  confi- 
dence." 

"  When  shall  I  be  entitled  to  it  ?  " 

''When  I  am  sure  you  love  me." 

"  Do  you  doubt  that  now?  " 

"  Yes  !  I  think  you  love  me,  but  I  am  not 
sure." 

"  Margaret,  remember  I  have  known  you  much 
longer  than  you  have  known  me." 

"No!" 

''  Yes  !  Two  months  before  we  ever  spoke  I 
lived  upon  your  face  and  voice." 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  looked  from  your  box  at 
me  upon  the  stage ;  and  did  not  I  look  from  the 
stage  at  you  ?  " 

"  Never  !  You  always  looked  at  the  pit,  and 
mv  heart  used  to  sink." 


PEG    WOFFINGTON. 


7T 


"  On  tlie  nth  of  May  you  first  came  into  that 
box.  I  noticed  you  a  little,  the  next  day  I"  no- 
ticed you  a  little  more ;  I  saw  you  fancied  you 
liked  me  ;  after  a  while  I  could  not  have  played 
without  you." 

Here  was  delicious  flattery  again,  and  poor 
Vane  believed  every  word  of  it. 

As  for  her  request  and  her  promise,  she  showed 
her  wisdom  in  both  these.  As  Sir  Charles  ob- 
served, it  is  a  wonderful  point  gained  if  you  allow 
a  woman  to  tell  her  story  her  own  way. 

How  the  few  facts  that  are  allowed  to  remain, 
get  moulded  and  twisted  out  of  ugly  forms  into 
pretty  shapes  by  those  supple,  dexterous  fingers  ! 
This*  present  story  cannot  give  the  life  of  Mrs. 
Woffington,  but  only  one  great  passage  therein, 
as  do  the  epic  and  dramatic  writers ;  but  since 
there  was  often  great  point  in  any  sentences 
spoken  on  important  occasions  by  this  lady,  I 
will  just  quote  her  defence  of  herself.  The  read- 
er may  be  sure  she  did  not  play  her  weakest 
card  ;  let  us  give  her  the  benefit. 

One  day  she  and  Kitty  CHve  were  at  it  ding- 
dong  ;  the  greenroom  was  fiill  of  actors,  male 
and  female,  but  there  were  no  strangers,  and  the 


78  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

ladies  were  saying  tilings  wHch  the  men  of  tliis 
generation  only  think  ;  at  last  Mrs.  Woffington 
finding  herself  roughly,  and,  as  she  thought,  un- 
justly handled,  tui-ned  upon  the  assembly  and 
said,  "  "What  man  did  ever  I  ruin  in  all  my  life  ? 
Speak  who  can." 

And  there  was  a  dead  silence. 

"  What  woman  is  there  here  at  as  much  as 
three  pounds  per  week  even,  that  hasn't  ruined 
two  at  the  very  least." 

Report  says  there  was  a  dead  silence  again, 
until  Mrs.  Clive  perked  up,  and  said  she  had 
only  ruined  *one,  and  that  was  his  own  fault ! 

Mrs.  "Woffington  declined  to  attach  weight  to 
this  example.  "  Kitty  Clive  is  the  hook  ^vithout 
the  bait,"  said  she  ;  and  the  laugh  turned,  as  it 
always  did,  against  Peggy's  antagonist. 

Thus  much  was  speedily  shown  to  Mr.  Yane, 
that  whatever  were  Mrs.  Woffington's  intentions 
towards  him,  interest  had  at  present  nothing  to 
do  with  them  ;  indeed,  it  was  made  clear  that 
even  were  she  to  surrender  her  liberty  to  him,  it 
would  only  be  as  a  princess,  forging  golden  chains 
for  herself  with  her  own  royal  hand. 

Another  fortnight  passed  to  the  mutual  satis- 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  79 

faction  of  the  lovers.  To  Vane  it  was  a  dream 
of  rapture  to  be  near  tliis  great  (feature,  whom 
thousands  admired  at  such  a  distance ;  to  watch 
over  her,  to  take  her  to  the  theatre  in  a  warm 
shawl,  to  stand  at  the  wing  and  receive  her  as 
she  came  radiant  fi'om  her  dressing  room,  to 
watch  her  from  her  rear  as  she  stood  Kke  some 
power  about  to  descend  on  the  stage,  to  see  her 
falcon-hke  stoop  upon  the  said  stage,  and  hear 
the  burst  of  applause  that  followed,  as  the  re- 
port does  the  flash ;  to  compare  this  with  the 
spiiitless  crawl  with  which  common  artists  went 
on,  tame  from  their  first  note  to  their  last ;  to 
take  her  hand  when  she  came  off,  feel  how  her 
nerves  were  strung,  like  a  greyhound's  after  a 
race,  and  her  whole  frame  in  a  high,  even  glow, 
with  the  great  Pythoness  excitement  of  art. 

And  to  have  the  same  great  creature  leaning 
her  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  listening  with  a 
charming  complacency,  whilst  he,  purred  to  her 
of  love  and  calm  delights,  alternate  with  still 
greater  triumphs ;  for  he  was  to  turn  dramatic 
writer,  for  her  sake  was  to  write  plays,  a  woman 
the  hero,  and  love  was  to  inspii'e  him,  and  pas- 
sion supply  the  want  of  pencraft.  (You  make 
me  laugh.,  Mr.  Vane  !) 


80  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

All  this  was  heavenly. 

And  then  \fith  all  her  dash,  and  fii-e,  and  bra- 
vado, she  was  a  thorough  woman. 

"  Margai-et !  " 

"  Ernest !  " 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question.  Did  you  real- 
ly cry  because  that  Miss  Bellamy  had  dresses 
from  Paris  ?  " 

"  It  does  not  seem  very  likely." 

"  No  ;  but  tell  me,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Who  said  I  did  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Gibber." 

"  Old  fool !  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  did  you  ?  " 

"Did  I  what?" 

"  Cry." 

"  Ernest,  the  minx's  dresses  were  beautifal." 

"  No  doubt ;  but  did  you  cry  ?  " 

"  And  mine  were  dirty ;  I  don't  care  about 
gilt  rags,  but  dirty  dresses,  ugh  !  " 

"  Tell  me,  then." 

".TeU  you  what?" 

"  Did  you  cry  or  not  ?  " 

"  Ah,  he  wants  to  find  out  whether  I  am  a  fool, 
and  despise  me." 

"  No  ;  I  think   I  should  love  you  be.tter  ;  for 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.        •  81 

hitherto  I  have  seen  no  weakness  in  you,  and  it 
makes  me  uncomfortable." 

"  Be  comforted  !  Is  it  not  a  weakness  to  like 
you  ?  " 

"  You  are  free  from  that  weakness,  or  you 
would  gratify  my  curiosity." 

"  Be  pleased  to  state,  in  plain,  intelligible  Eng- 
lish, what  you  requii'e  of  me." 

"  I  want  to  know,  in  one  word,  did  you  cry  oi 
not  ?  " 

"  Promise  to  tease  me  no  more,  then,  and  I'll 
tell  you." 

I  promise." 

You  won't  despise  me  ?  " 

''  Despise  you  ?     Of  course  not." 

"  Well,  then  —  I  don't  remember !  " 

On  another  occasion,  they  were  seated  in  the 
dusk,  by  the  side  of  the  canal  in  the  Park,  when 
a  httle  animal  began  to  potter  about  on  an  adja- 
cent bank. 

Mrs.  Woffington  contemplated  it  with  curiosi- 
ty and  dehght. 

"  O,  you  pretty  creature  ! "  said  she.  "  Now 
you  are  a  rabbit ;  at  least,  I  think  so." 

"  No,"  said  Vane,  innocently  ;  "  that  is  a  rat." 


82  PEG    WOFFIXGTON. 

"  Ah,  ah,  ah  !  "  screamed  Mrs;  "Woffington,  and 
pinched  his  arm.  This  frightened  the  rat;  who 
disappeared.  She  burst  out  laughing,  "  There's 
a  fool !  The  thing  did  not  frighten  me,  and  the 
name  did.  Depend  upon  it,  it's  true  what  they 
say,  that  off  the  stage  I  am  the  greatest  fool 
there  is.  I'll  never  be  so  absurd  again.  Ah,  ah, 
ah. !  here  it  is  again !  "  (scream  and  pinch,  as  be- 
fore.) "  Do  take  me  from  this  horrid  place,  where 
monsters  come  from  the  great  deep." 

And  she  flounced  away,  looking  daggers  as- 
kant at  the  place  the  rat  had  vacated  in  equal 
terror. 

All  this  was  silly,  but  it  pleases  us  men  ;  and 
contrast  is  so  charming  !  This  same  fool  was 
brimful  of  talent  —  and  cunning,  too,  for  that 
matter. 

She  played  late  that  night,  and  Mr.  Vane  saw 
the  same  creature,  who  dared  not  stay  where  she 
was  liable  to  a  distant  rat,  spring  upon  the  stage 
as  a  gay  rake,  and  flash  out  her  rapier,  and  act 
valor's  king  to  the  life,  and  seem  ready  to  eat  up 
every  body.  King  Fear  included  ;  and  then,  after 
her  briUiant  sally  upon  the  public.  Sir  Harry 
Wildair  came  and  stood  beside  Mr.  Vane. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  83 

Her  bright  skin,  contrasted  with  her  powdered 
periwig,  became  dazzling.  She  used  little 
rouge,  but  that  little  made  her  eyes  two  balls  of ' 
black  lightning.  From  her  high  instep  to  her 
polished  forehead  all  was  symmetry.  Her  leg 
w^ould  have  been  a  sculptor's  glory ;  and  the 
curve  from,  her  waist  to  her  knee  was  Hogarth's 
line  itself. 

She  stood  hke  Mercury  new  lighted  on  a 
heaven-kissing  hill.  She  placed  her  foot  upon  the 
ground  as  she  might  put  a  hand  upon  her  lover's 
shoulder.  "We  indent  it  with  our  eleven  undis- 
guised stone. 

Such  was  Sir  Harry  Wildair,  who  stood  by 
Mr.  Vane,  ghttering  with  diamond  buckles,  gor- 
geous with  rich  satin  breeches,  velvet  coat,  ruf- 
fles, pictai  vestis  et  auri ;  and  as  she  bent  her 
long  eye  fringes  down  on  him,  (he  was  seated,) 
all  her  fiery  charms  gradually  softened  and  quiv- 
ered down  to  womanhood. 

"The  first  time  I  was  here,"  said  Vane,  "  my 
admiration  of  you  broke  out  to  Mr.  Gibber ;  and 
w^hat  do  you  think  he  said  ?  " 

"That  you  praised  me  for  me  to  hear  you. 
Did  you?" 


84  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Acquit  me  of  sucli  meanness." 

"  Forgive  me.  It  is  just  wliat  I  should  have 
•done,  had  I  been  coui'ting  an  actress." 

'*  I  think  you  have  not  met  many  ingenuous 
spirits,  dear  Mend." 

"  Not  one,  my  child." 

This  was  a  phrase  she  often  applied  to  him 
now. 

"  The  old  fellow  pretended  to  hear  what  I  said, 
too  ;  and  I  am  sure  you  did  not ;  did  you  ?  " 

"  Guess." 

"  I  guess  not." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must  plead  guilty.  An  ac- 
tress's ears  are  so  quick  to  hear  praise,  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  did  catch  a  word  or  two,  and  ^  it  told, 
sir,  it  told.' " 

'^  You  alarm  me  !  At  this  rate,  I  shall  never 
know  what  you  see,  hear,  or  think,  by  your 
face." 

"  When  you  want  to  know  any  thing,  ask  me, 
and  I  will  tell  you ;  but  nobody  else  shall  learn 
any  thing,  nor  even  you,  any  other  way." 

"  Did  you  hear  the  feeble  tribute  of  praise  I 
was  paying  you  when  you  came  in  ? "  inquired 
Vane. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.       '  85 

'*  No.  You  did  not  say  that  my  voice  had  the 
compass  and  variety  of  nature,  and  my  movements 
were  free  and  beautiful,  whilst  the  others  when  in 
motion  were  stilts,  and  coffee  pots  when  in  repose, 
did  you  ? " 

*'  Something  of  the  sort,  I  believe,"  cried 
Vane,  laughing. 

"  I  melted  from  one  fine  statue  into  another,  1 
restored  the  Antinous  to  his  true  sex.  Goose  !  — 
Painters  might  learn  their  art  from  me,  (in  my 
dressing  room,  no  doubt,)  and  orators  revive  at 
my  lips  the  music  of  Athens,  that  quelled  mad 
mobs  and  princes  drunk  with  victory.  Silly  fel- 
low !  —  Praise  was  never  so  sweet  to  me,"  mur- 
mured she,  inclining  like  a  goddess  of  love 
towards  him  ;  and  he  fastened  on  two  velvet  lips, 
that  did  not  shun  the  sweet  attack,  but  gently 
parted  with  a  heavenly  sigh,  while  her  heav- 
ing bosom,  and  yielding  frame,  and  swimming 
eyes  confessed  her  conqueror.' 

That  morning  Mr.  Vane  had  been  dispirited, 
and  apparently  self-discontented ;  but  at  night 
he  went  home  in  a  state  of  mental  intoxication. 
His  poetic  enthusiasm,  his  love,  his  vanity,  were 
all    gratified    at    once.      And   all   these,   singly. 


86  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

have  conquered  Prudence  and  Virtue  a  million 
times. 

She  had  confessed  to  him  that  she  was  disposed 
to  risk  her  happiness  on  him ;  she  had  begged 
him  to  submit  to  a  short  probation ;  and  she  had 
promised,  if  her  confidence  and  esteem  remained 
unimpaired  at  the  close  of  that  period,  —  which 
was  not  to  be  an  unhappy  one,  —  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  summer  holidays,  and  cross  the  water 
with  him,  and  forget  every  thing  in  the  world 
with  him,  but  love. 

How  was  it  that  the  very  next  morning,  clouds 
chased  one  another  across  his  face  ?  Was  it  that 
men  are  happy  but  while  the  chase  is  doubtful  ? 
Was  it  the  letter  fi-om  Pomander  announcing  his 
return,  and  sneeringly  inquiring  whether  he  was 
still  the  dupe  of  Peg  Woffington  ?  or  was  it  that 
same  mysterious  disquiet  which  attacked  him 
periodically,  and  then  gave  way  for  a  while  to 
pleasure  and  her  golden  dreams  ? 

The  next  day  was  to  be  a  day  of  delight.  He 
was  to  entertain  her  at  his  own  house  ;  and  to  do 
her  honor,  he  had  asked  Mr.  Gibber,  Mr.  Quin, 
and  other  actors,  critics,  &c. 

Our  friend   Sir  Charles   Pomander  had  been 


PEG    WOFFIXGTON.     '  87 

guilty  of  two  LQgenmties  :  fii'st,  lie  liad  "written 
three  or  four  letters,  full  of  respectful  admira- 
tion, to  Mrs.  Woffington,  of  whom  he  spoke 
slightingly  to  Vane ;  second,  he  had  made  a 
disingenuous  purchase. 

This  pui'chase  was  Pompey,  Mrs  Woffington  s 
little  black  slave.  It  is  a  horrid  fact,  but  Pom- 
pey did  not  love  his  mistress  :  he  was  a  little 
enamoured  of  her,  as  small  boys  are  apt  to  be, 
but  on  the  whole,  a  sentiment  of  hatred  slightly 
predominated  in  his  little  black  bosom. 

It  was  not  without  excuse. 

This  lady  was  subject  to  two  unpleasant  com- 
panions, sorrow  and  bitterness.  About  twice 
a  week  she  would  cry  for  two  hours  ;  and  after 
this  class  of  fit  she  generally  went  abroad,  and 
made  a  round  of  certain  poor  or  sick  proteges  she 
had,  and  returned  smiling  and  cheerful. 

But  other  twice  a  week  she  might  be  seen  to 
sit  upon  her  chair,  contracted  into  half  her  size, 
and  looking  daggers  at  the  universe  in  general, 
the  world  in  particular  ;  and  on  these  occasions, 
it  must  be  owned,  she  staid  at  home,  and  some- 
times whipped  Pompey. 

Pompey  had  not  the  sense  to  reflect  that  he 


88  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

ought  to  have  been  whipped  eveiy  day,  nor  the 
esprit  de  corps  to  be  consoled  by  observing  that 
this  sort  of  thing  did  his  mistress  good.  What 
he  felt  was,  that  his  mistress,  who  did  every  thing 
well,  whipped  him  with  energy  and  skill ;  it  did 
not  take  ten  seconds,  but  still,  in  that  brief  pe- 
riod, Pompey  found  himself  dusted  and  polished 
off. 

The  sacred  principle  of  justice  was  as  strong 
in  Mrs.  Woffington  as  in  the  rest  of  her  sex  ; 
she  had  not  one  grain  of  it.  When  she  was 
not  in  her  tantrums,  the  mischievous  imp  was  as 
sacred  from  check  or  remonstrance  as  a  monkey, 
or  a  lap  dog ;  and  several  female  servants  left  the 
house  on  his  account. 

But  Nemesis  overtook  him  in  the  way  we  have 
hinted,  and  it  put  his  Kttle  black  pipe  out. 

The  lady  had  taken  him  out  of  gi-eat  human- 
ity ;  he  was  fed  like  a  game-cock,  and  dressed 
like  a  Barbaric  prince  ;  and  once,  when  he  was 
ill,  his  mistress  watched  him,  and  nursed  him, 
and  tended  him  with  the  same  white  hand  that 
phed  the  obnoxious  whip  ;  and  when  he  died, 
she  alone  withheld  her  consent  from -his  burial, 
and  this  gave  him  a  chance  black  boys  never  get. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  89 

and  lie  came  to  again ;  but  still  tliese  tarnation 
lickings  "  stuck  in  him  gizzard."  So  when  Sir 
Charles's  agent  proposed  to  him  certain  silver 
coins,  cheap  at  a  little  treacheiy,  the  ebony  ape 
grinned  till  he  turned  half  ivoiy,  and  became  a 
spy  in  the  house  of  his  mistress. 

The  reader  w^ll  have  gathered,  that  the  goo(? 
Sir  Charles  had  been  quietly  in  London  some 
hoiu's  before  he  announced  himself  as  paulo  post 
futurum. 

Diamond  cut  diamond ;  a  diplomate  stole  this 
march  upon  an  actress,  and  took  her  black  pawn. 
One  for  Pomander  !  (Gun.) 
8 


CHAPTER    IV.- 

Triplet,  the  Cerberus  of  art,  who  had  the 
first  bark  in  this  legend,  and  Ifes  since  been  out 
of  hearing,  ran  from  Lambeth  to  Covent  Garden, 
on  receipt  of  Mr.  Vane's  note.  But  ran  he  never 
so  quick,  he  had  built  a  full-sized  castle  in  the  air 
before  he  reached  Bow  Street. 

The  letter  hinted  at  an  order  upon  his  muse  for 
amatory  verse  :  delightful  task,  cheering  prospect. 

Bid  a  man  whose  usual  lot  it  is  to  break  stones 
for  the  parish  at  ten  pence  the  cubic  yard ;  bid 
such  a  one  play  at  marbles  with  stone  taws  for 
half  an  hour  per  day,  and  pocket  one  pound 
one.  Bid  a  poor  horse  who  has  di*awn  those 
stones  about,  and  browsed  short  grass  by  the  way- 
side, bid  him  canter  a  few  times  round  a  grassy 
ring,  and  then  go  to  his  corn.  In  short,  bid  Ros- 
inante  change  with  Pegasus,  and  you  do  no  more 
than  Mr.  Vane's  letter  held  out  to  Triplet. 

The  amatory  verse  of  that  day  was  not  up-hill 
work.     There  was  a  beaten  track  on  a  dead  level, 

90 


PEG    WOFFi:SGTON.  91 

and  you  followed  it.  You  told  the  tender  crea- 
ture,  .with  a  world  of  cii'cunilocution,  that,  "  with- 
out joking  now,"  she  was  a  leper,  ditto  a  tigress, 
item  marble.  You  next  feigned  a  lucid  interval, 
and  to  be  on  the  point  of  detesting  your  monster  ; 
but  in  twenty  more  verses  love  became,  as  usual, 
stronger  than  reason,  and  you  wound  up  your 
rotten  yarn  thus  :  — 

You  hugged  a  golden  chain.  You  di'ew  deep- 
er into  your  wound  a  barbed  shaft,  like  —  (any 
wild  animal  will  do,  no  one  of  them  is  such  an 
ass,  so  you  had  an  equal  title  to  all ;)  and  on  look- 
ing back  you  saw  with  horrible  complacency  that 
you  had  inflicted  one  hundred  locusts,  five  feet 
long,  upon  oppressed  humanity. 

Wont  to  travel  over  acres  of  canvas  for  a  few 
shillings,  and  roods  of  paper  on  bare  speculation. 
Triplet  knew  he  could  make  a  thousand  a  year  at 
the  above  work  without  thinking. 

He  came,  therefore,  to  the  box  keeper  with  his 
eyes  glittering. 

"Mr.  Vane?" 

"  Just  gone  out  with  a  gentleman." 

"  I'll  wait,  then." 

Now  Mr.  Vane,  we  know,  was  in  the  green- 


92  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

room,  and  went  home  by  the  stage  door.  The 
last  thing  he  thought  of  was  poor  Triplet ;  the 
rich  do  not  dream  how  they  disappoint  the  poor. 
Triplet's  castle  fell  as  many  a  predecessor  had. 
When  the  lights  were  put  out,  he  left  the  theatre 
with  a  bitter  sigh. 

*^  If  this  gentleman  knew  how  many  sweet 
childi'en  I  have,  and  what  a  good,  patient,  suffer- 
ing wife,  sure  he  would  not  have  chosen  me  to 
make  a  fool  of! "  said  the  poor  fellow  to  himself. 

In  Bow  Street,  he  turned,  and  looked  back 
upon  the  theatre.  How  gloomy  and  grand  it 
loomed ! 

"  Ah  !  "  thought  he,  "  if  I  could  but  conquer 
you ;  and  why  not  ?  All  history  shows  that 
nothing  is  unconquerable  except  perseverance. 
Hannibal  conquered  the  Alps,  and  I'll  conquer 
you,"  cried  Triplet,  firmly.  "  Yes,  this  visit  is 
not  lost ;  here  I  register  a  vow  :  I  will  force  my 
way  into  that  mountain  of  masonry,  or  perish  in 
the  attempt." 

Triplet's  most  unpremeditated  thoughts  and 
actions  often  savored  ridiculously  of  the  subhme. 
Then  and  there,  gazing  with  folded  arms  on  this 
fortress  of  Thespis,  the  polytechnic  man  organ- 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  93 

ized    his    first    assault.      The    next    evening   he 
made  it. 

Five  months  previously  he  had  sent  the  man- 
ager three  great,  large  tragedies.  He  knew  the 
aversion  a  theatrical  manager  has  to  read  a  manu- 
script play,  not  recommended  by  influential  folk ; 
an  aversion  which  always  has  been  carried  to  su- 
perstition.    So  he  hit  on  the  follomng  scheme  :  — 

He  wrote  Mr.  Rich  a  letter  ;  in  this,  he  told 
Mr.  Rich,  that  he  (Triplet)  was  aware  what  a 
quantity  of  trash  is  offered  every  week  to  a  man- 
ager, how  disheartening  it  must  be  to  read  it  all, 
and  how  natural,  after  a  while,  to  read  none. 
Therefore,  he  (Triplet)  had  provided '  that  Mr. 
Rich  might  economize  his  time,  ^and  yet  not  re- 
main in  ignorance  of  the  dramatic  treasure  that 
lay  ready  to  his  hand. 

"  The  soul  of  a  play,"  continued  Triplet,  "  is 
the  plot  or  fable.  A  gentleman  of  your  expe- 
rience can  decide  at  once  whether  a  plot  or  story 
is  one  to  take  the  pubHc !  " 

So  then  he  drew  out,  in  full,  the  three  plots. 
He  wrote  these  plots  in  verse !  Heaven  forgive 
us  all,  he  really  did.  There  were  also  two  mar- 
gins left ;  on  one,  which  was  narrow,  he  jotted 


94  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

down  tlie  locale  per  page  of  the  most  brilliaiit 
passages ;  on  the  other  margin,  which  was  as 
wide  as  the  column  of  the  plot,  he  made  careful 
drawings  of  the  personages  in  the  principal  dra- 
matic situations  ;  scrolls  issued  from  then*  mouths, 
on  which  were  written  the  words  of  fire  that  were 
flowing  from  each  in  these  eniptions  of  the  dra- 
matic action.  All  was  referred  to  pages  in  the 
manuscripts. 

"  By  this  means,  sir,"  resumed  the  letter,  '^  you 
will  gut  my  fish  in  a  jiify  ;  permit  me  to  recall 
that  expression,  with  apologies  for  my  freedom. 
I  would  say,  you  will,  in  a  few  minutes  of  your 
valuable  existence,  skim  the  cream  of  Triplet." 

This  author's,  respect  for  the  manager's  time 
carried  him  into  farther  and  unusual  details. 

"  Breakfast,"  said  he,  "  is  a  quiet  meal.  Let 
me  respectfully  suggest,  that  by  placing  one  of 
my  plots  on  the  table,  with,  say  the  sugar  basin 
upon  it,  (this,  again,  is  a  mere  siiggestion,)  and 
the  play  it  appertains  to  on  your  other  side,  you 
can  readily  judge  my  work  without  disturbing  the 
avocations  of  the  day,  and  master  a  play  in  the 
twinkling  of  a  teacup  ;  forgive  my  facetiousness. 
This   day  month,    at   ten   of   the    clock,    I  shall 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  95 

expect,"  said  Triplet,  with  sudden  severity,  "  sir, 
your  decision  !  " 

Then  gliding  back  to  the  courtier,  he  formally 
disowned  all  special  title  to  the  consideration  he 
expected  from  Mr.  Rich's  well-known  courtesy; 
still,  he  begged  permission  to  remind  that  gentle- 
man, that  he  had  six  years  ago  painted  for  him  a 
large  scene,  illuminated  'by  two  great  poetical 
incidents  :  a  red  sun,  of  dimensions  never  seen 
out  of  doors  in  this  or  any  country ;  and  an 
ocean  of  sand,  yellower  than  up  to  that  time  had 
been  attained  in  art  or  natm^e ;  and  that  once, 
when  the  audience,  late  in  the  evening,  had  sud- 
denly demanded  a  popular  song  from  Mr.  Nokes, 
he  (Triplet)  seeing  the  orchestra  thinned  by  de- 
sertion, and  nugatory  by  intoxication,  had  started 
from  the  pit,  resuscitated  with  the  whole  contents 
of  his  snuffbox,  the  bass  fiddle,  snatched  the 
leader's  violin,  and  carried  Mr.  Nokes  triumph- 
antly through  ;•  that  thunders  of  applause  had 
followed,  and  Mr.  Nokes  had  kindly  returned 
thanks  for  both;  but  that  he  (Triplet)  had  hasti- 
ly retired  to  evade  the  manager's  acknowledg- 
ments, preferring  to  wait  an  opportunity  like  the 
present,  when  both  interests  could  be  concili- 
ated, &c. 


96  PEG    -WOFFINGTON. 

This  letter  he  posted  at  its  destination,  to  save 
time,  and  returned  triamphant  home.  He  had 
now  forgiven  and  ahnost  forgotten  Vane;  and 
had  reflected  that,  after  all,  the  drama  was  his 
proper  walk. 

"My  dear,"'  said  he  to  Mrs.  Triplet,  "this 
family  is  on  the  eve  of  a  great  triumph  !  "  Then, 
inverting  that  order  of  the  grandiloquent  and  the 
homely  which  he  invented  in  our  first  chapter, 
he  proceeded  to  say,  "  I  have  reared  in  a  single 
day  a  new  avenue,  by  which  histrionic  greatness, 
hitherto  obstructed,  may  become  accessible.  Wife, 
I  think  I  have  done  the  trick  at  last.  Lysima- 
chus  !  "  added  he,  "  let  a  Hbation  be  poured  out 
on  so  smiling  an  occasion,  and  a  bui-nt-offering 
rise  to  propitiate  the  celestial  powers.  Run  to 
the  '  Sun,'  you  dog.  Tln-ee  pennyworth  of  ^le, 
and  a  hap'orth  o'  tobacco." 

Ere  the  month  was  out,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  the 
Triplets  were  reduced  to  a  state  of  beggaiy. 
Mrs.  Triplet's  health  had  long  been  failing ;  and 
although  her  duties  at  her  Httle  theatre  were 
light  and  occasional,  the  manager  was  obliged  to 
discharge  her,  since  she  could  not  be  depended 
upon. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  97 

TKe  family  had  not  enougli  to  eat !  Tliink  of 
that !  They  were  not  warm  at  night,  and  they 
felt  gnawing  and  faintness  often  by  day.  Think 
of  that ! 

Fortune  was  unjust  here.  The  man  was  laugh- 
able, and  a  goose  ;  and  had  no  genius  either  for 
writing,  painting,  or  acting ;  but  in  that  he  re- 
sembled most  writers,  painters,  and  actors  of  his 
own  day  and  ours.  He  was  not  beneath  the  av- 
erage of  what  men  call  art,  and  it  is  art's  antip- 
odes —  treadmill  artifice. 

Other  fluent  ninnies  shared  gain,  and  even 
fame,  and  were  called  "pen-men,"  in  Triplet's 
day.  Other  ranters  were  quietly  getting  rich 
by  noise.  Other  liars  and  humbugs  were  paint- 
ing out  o'  doors  in- doors,  and  eating  mutton  in- 
stead of  thistles  for  drenched  «tinging  nettles, 
yclept  trees  ;  for  block-tin  clouds ;  for  butler's 
pantry  seas,  and  garret-conceived  lakes  ;  for 
molten  sugar  candy  rivers  ;  for  airless  atmos- 
phere and  sunless  air ;  for  carpet  nature,  and 
cold,  dead  fragments  of  an  earth  all  soul  and 
living  glory  to  every  cultivated  eye  but  a  routine 
painter's.  Yet  the  man  of  many  such  mediocri- 
ties could  not  keep  the  pot  boiling.  We  suspect 
9 


98  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

that  to  those  who  would  rise  m  life,  even  strong 
versatility  is  a  very  doubtful  good,  and  weak 
versatiHty  ruination. 

At  last,  the  bitter,  weary  month  was  gone,  and 
Triplet's  eye  brightened  gloriously.  He  donned 
his  best  suit ;  and  whilst  tying  his  cravat,  lectui-ed 
his  family.  Fii'st,  he  comphmented  them  upon 
their  deportment  in  adversity  ;  hinted  that  mor- 
alists, not  experience,  had  informed  him  prosper- 
ity was  far  more  trying  to  the  character ;  put 
them  all  solemnly  on  their  guard  down  to  Lucy, 
setat  five,  that  they  were  morituri  and  ce,  and 
must  be  pleased  to  abstain  from  "  insolent  glad- 
ness "  upon  his  return. 

''  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity  !  "  continued 
this  cheerful  monitor.  "If  we  had  not  been 
hard  up  this  while,  we  should  not  come  with  a 
full  relish  to  meat  three  times  a  week,  which,  un- 
less I  am  an  ass,  (and  I  don't  see  myself  in  that 
light,)"  said  Triplet,  dryly,  "  will,  I  apprehend, 
be,  after  this  day,  the  primary  condition  of  our 
future  existence." 

^'  James,  take  the  picture  vrith.  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Triplet,  in  one  of  those  calm,  little,  desponding 
voices  that  fall  upon  the  soul  so  agreeably  when 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  99 

me  is  cock-a-hoop,  and  desii'es,  with  permission, 
so  to  remain. 

"  What  on  earth  am  I  to  take  Mrs.  WofEng- 
ton's  portrait  for  ?  " 

"  We  have  nothing  in  the  house,"  said  the 
wife,  blushing. 

Triplet's  eye  glittered  like  a  rattlesnake's. 

"  The  intimation  is  eccentric,"  said  he.  "  Are 
you  mad,  Jane  ?  Pray,"  continued  he,  veiling 
his  wrath  in  scornful  words,  "is  it  requisite, 
heroic,  or  judicious,  on  the  eve,  or,  more  correctly, 
the  morn,  of  affluence,  to  deposit  an  unfinished 
work  of  art  with  a  mercenaiy  relation.  Hang 
it,  Jane  !  would  you  really  have  me  pawn  Mrs. 
Woffington  to-day  ? " 

"  James,"  said  Jane,  steadily,  '^  the  manager 
may  disappoint  you  ;  we  have  often  been  disap- 
pointed ;  so  take  the  picture  with  you.  They 
will  give  you  ten  shillings  on  it." 

Triplet  was  of  those  who  see  things  roseate, 
Mrs.  Triplet  luiid. 

"  Madam,"  said  the  poet,  "  for  the  first  time  in 
our  conjugal  career,  your  commands  deviate  so 
entirely  from  reason,  that  I  respectfiilly  withdraw 
that  implicit  obedience  which  has  hitherto  consti- 


100  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

tuted  my  principal  reputation.  I'm  hanged  if  1 
do  it,  Jane  !  " 

"  Dear  James,  to  oblige  me  !  " 

"  That  alters  the  case ;  you  confess  it  is  un- 
reasonable ?  " 

"  0,  yes  !     It  is  only  to  oblige  me." 

"  Enough  !  "  said  Triplet,  whose  tongue  was 
often  a  flail  that  fell  on  friend,  foe,  and  self  indis- 
criminately. ^*  Allow  it  to  be  unreasonable,  and 
I  do  it  as  a  matter  of  course  —  to  please  you, 
Jane." 

Accordingly  the  good  soul  wrapped  it  in  green 
baize ;  but  to  relieve  his  mind  he  was  obliged  to 
get  behind  his  wife,  and  shi'ug  his  shoulders  to 
Lysimachus  and  the  eldest  gii'l,  as  who  should 
say,  voila  Men  une  femme  voire  mere  a  vous  ! 

At  last  he  was  off  in  high  spirits.  He  reached 
Covent  Garden  at  half  past  ten,  and  there  the 
poor  fellow  was  sucked  into  our  narrative  whud- 
'pool. 

We  must,  however,  leave  him  for  a  few 
minutes. 


CHAPTER    V. 

Sir  Charles  Pomander  was  detained  in  tlie 
country  mucli  longer  than  lie  expected. 

He  was  rewarded  by  a  little  adventure.  As 
he  cantered  up  to  London  with  two  servants  and 
a  postboy,  all  riding  on  horses  ordered  in  relays 
beforehand,  he  came  up  with  an  antediluvian 
coach,  stuck  fast  by  the  roadside.  Looking  into 
the  window,  with  the  humane  design  of  quizzing 
the  elders  who  should  be  there,  he  saw  a  young 
lady  of  surpassing  beauty.  This  altered  the 
case ;  Sir  Charles  instantly  drew  bridle  and  of- 
fered his  services. 

The  lady  thanked  him  ;  and  being  an  innocent 
country  lady,  she  opened  those  sluices,  her  eyes, 
and  two  tears  gently  trickled  down,  while  she 
told  him  how  eager  she  was  to  reach  London, 
and  how  mortified  at  this  delay. 

The  good  Sir  Charles  was  touched.    He  leaped 

his  horse  over  a  hedge,  galloped  to  a  farm  house 

in  sight,  and  returned  with   ropes   and  rustics. 

101 


102  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

These  and  Sir  Charles's  horses  soon  drew  the 
coach  out  of  some  stiffish  clay. 

The  lady  thanked  him,  and  thanked  him,  and 
thanked  him,  with  heightening  color  and  beam- 
ing eyes,  and  he  rode  away  Hke  a  hero. 

Before  he  had  gone  five  miles,  he  became 
thoughtful  and  self-dissatisfied;  finally,  his  re- 
morse came  to  a  head ;  he  called  to  him  the 
keenest  of  his  servants,  Hunsdon,  and  ordered 
him  to  ride  back  past  the  carriage  ;  then  follow, 
and  put  up  at  the  same  inn,  to  learn  who  the 
lady  was,  and  whither  going ;  and  this  knowl- 
edge gained,  to  ride  into  town  full  speed,  and 
tell  his  master  all  about  it.  Sir  Charles  then  re- 
sumed his  complacency,  and  cantered  into  Lon- 
don that  same  evening. 

Arrived  there,  he  set  himself  in  earnest  to  cut 
out  his  friend  with  Mrs.  Woffington.  He  had  al- 
ready caused  his  correspondence  with  that  lady 
to  grow  warm  and  more  tender  by  degrees. 
Keeping  a  copy  of  his  last,  he  always  knew 
where  he  was.  Cupid's  barometer  rose  by  rule  ; 
and  so  he  arrived  by  just  gradations  at  an  artful 
climax,  arid  made  her,  in  terms  of  chivalrous  af- 
fection, an  ofier  ^of  a  house,  &c.,  three  hundred  a 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  103 

year,  &c.,  not  forgetting  his  heart,  &c.  He  knew 
that  the  ladies  of  the  stage  have  an  ear  for  flat- 
tery, and  an  eye  to  the  main  chance. 

The  good  Sir  Charles  felt  sure,  that,  however 
she  might  flirt  with  Vane  or  others,  she  would 
not  forego  a  position  for  any  disinterested  pen- 
chant. Still,  as  he  was  a  close  player,  he  deter- 
mined to  throw  a  little  cold  water  on  that  flame. 
His  plan,  like  every  thing  truly  scientific,  was 
simple.  j 

"  I'll  run  her  down  to  him,  and  ridicule  him  to 
her,"  resolved  this  faithful  fi'iend  and  lover  dear. 

He  began  with  Vane.  He  found  him  just  leav- 
ing his  own  house.  After  the  usual  compliments, 
some  such  dialogue  as  this  took  place  between 
Telemachus  and  pseudo-Mentor  :  — 

"  I  trust  you  are  not  really  in  the  power  of 
this  actress."  1 


"  You  are  the  slave  of  a  word,"  replied  Vane. 
"  Would  you  confound  black  and  white  because 
both  are  colors  ?  She  is  like  that  sisterhood  in 
nothing  but  a  name.  Even  on  the  stage  they  have 
nothing  in  common.  They  are  puppets  —  all 
attitude  and  trick;  she  is  all  ease,  grace,  and 
nature." 


104  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Natui-e  !  "  cried  Pomancler.  "  Laissez-moi 
tranquille.  They  have  artifice  —  natiu'e's  libel , 
she  has  art  —  natm-e's  counterfeit." 

"  Her  voice  is  truth  told  by  music,"  cried  the 
poetical  lover;  "theii's  are  jingling  instruments 
of  falsehdbd." 

"  They  are  all  instruments,"  said  the  satirist ; 
"  she  is  rather  the  best  tuned  and  played." 

"  Her  face  speaks  in  every  Hneament ;  tlieLrs 
are  rouged  and  wrinkled  masks." 

"  Her  mask  is  the  best  made,  mounted,  and 
moved  ;  that  is  all." 

"  She  is  a  fountain  of  true  feeling." 

"  No ;  a  pipe  that  conveys  it  without  spilling 
or  holding  a  di'op." 

"  She  is  an  angel  of  talent,  sir." 

"  She's  a  devil  of  deception." 

"  She  is  a  divinity  to  worship." 

"  She's  a  woman  to  fight  shy  of.  There  is  not 
a  woman  in  London  better  known,"  continued 
Sir  Charles.  "  She  is  a  fair  actress  on  the  boards, 
and  a  great  actress  off  them ;  but  I  can  tell  you 
how  to  add  a  new  charm  to  her." 

"  Heaven  can  only  do  that,"  said  Vane, 
hastily. 


PEG    WOI-FIXGTON.  105 

-  "  Yes,  you  can.  Make  her  blush.  Ask  her 
for  the  Hst  of  your  predecessors." 

Vane  winced  visibly.  He  quickened  his  step 
as  if  to  get  rid  of  this  gadfly. 

"  I  spoke  to  Mr.  Quin,"  said  he,  at  last ;  "  and 
he,  who  has  no  prejudice,  paid  her  character  the 
highest  compliment." 

"  You  have  paid  it  the  highest  it  admits,"  was 
the  reply.  "  You  have  let  it  deceive  you."  Sir 
Charles  continued  in  a  more  solemn  tone,  "  Pray 
be  warned.  Why  is  it  every  man  of  intellect 
loves  an  actress  once  in  his  life,  and  no  man  of 
sense  ever  did  it  twice  ?  " 

This  last  hit,  coming  after  the  carte  and  tierce 
we  have  described,  brought  an  expression  of  pain 
to  Mr.  Yane's  face.  He  said,  abruptly,  "  Excuse 
me,  I  desire  to  be  alone  for  half  an  hour." 

Machiavel  bowed,  and  instead  of  taking  of- 
fence, said,  in  a  tone  full  of  feeling,  '^Ah,  I  give 
you  pain !  But  you  are  right ;  think  it  calmly 
over  a  while,  and  you  will  see  I  advise  you 
well." 

He  then  made  for  the  theatre,  and  the  weakish 
personage  he  had  been  playing  upon  walked  down 


106  PECx    WOFFINGTON. 

to  the  river,  almost  ran,  in  fact.  He  wanted  to 
be  out  of  sight. 

He  got  behind  some  houses,  and  then  his  face 
seemed  literally  to  break  loose  fi'om  confinement, 
so  anxious,  sad,  fearful,  and  bitter  were  the  ex- 
pressions that  coursed  each  other  over  that  hand- 
some countenance. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  these  hot  and  cold 
fits  ?  It  is  not  Sir  Charles  who  has  the  power  to 
shake  Mr.  Vane  so  without  some  help  from 
within.  There  is  something  wrong  about  this 
man  I 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Machiavel  entered  the  greenroom,  intending 
to  wait  for  Mrs.  Woffinsrton,  and  carry  out  the 
second  part  of  his  plan. 

He  knew  that  weak  minds  cannot  make  head 
against  ridicule,  and  with  this  pickaxe  he  prOf 
posed  to  clear  the  way  before  he  came  to  grave, 
sensible,  business  love  with  the  lady.  Mach- 
iavel was  a  man  of  talent.  If  he  has  been  a 
silent  personage  hitherto,  it  is  merely  because  it 
was  not  his  cue  to  talk,  but  Hsten  ;  otherwise,  he 
was  rather  a  master  of  the  art  of  speech.  He 
could  be  insinuating,  eloquent,  sensible,  or  satirical, 
at  will.  This  personage  sat  in  the  greenroom.  In 
one  hand  was  his  diamond  snuffbox,  in  the  other 
a  richly  laced  handkerchief ;  his  clouded  cane  re- 
posed by  his  side. 

There  was  an  air  of  success  about  this  per- 
sonage. The  gentle  reader,  however  conceited 
a   dog,  could  not  see  how  he  was  to   defeat  Sir 

Charles,  who  was  tall,  stout,  handsome,  rich,  wit- 

107 


108  PEG    WOFFINGTOX. 

ty,  self-sufSicieiit,  cool,  majestic,  courageous,  and 
in  whom  were  united  the  advantages  of  a  hard 
head,  a  tough  stomach,  and  no  heart  at  all. 

This  great  creature  sat  expecting  Mrs.  Wofhng- 
ton,  hke  Olympian  Jove  awaiting  Juno.  But  he 
was  mortal  after  all ;  for  suddenly  the  serenity  of 
that  adamantine  countenance  was  disturbed ;  his 
eye  dilated  ;  his  grace  and  dignity  were  shaken. 
He  huddled  his  handkerchief  into  one  pocket,  his 
snuffbox  into  another,  and  forgot  his  cane.  He 
ran  to  the  door  in  unaffected  terror- 

Where  are  all  his  fine  airs  before  a  real  danger  ? 
Love,  intrigue,  diplomacy,  were  all  driven  from 
his  mind;  for  he  beheld  that  approaching 
which  is  the  greatest  peril  and  disaster  known 
to  social  man.  He  saw  a  bore  coming  into  the 
room ! 

In  a  wild  thirst  for  novelty  Pomander  had  once 
penetrated  to  Goodman's  Fields  Theatre ;  there 
he  had  unguardedly  put  a  question  to  a  carpenter 
behind  the  scene  ;  a  seedy -black  poet  instantly 
pushed  the  carpenter  away,  (down  a  trap  it  is 
thought,)  and  answered  it  in  seven  pages,  and  in 
continuation  was  so  vaguely  communicative  that 
he  drove  Sir  Charles  back  into  the  far  west. 


PEG    WOFFIXGTOX.  109 

Sir  diaries  knew  him  again  in  a  momenf,  and 
at  sight  of  him  bolted.  They  met  at  the  door. 
"  Ah,  Mr.  Triplet !  "  said  the  fugitive,  "  enchant- 
ed —  to  wish  you  good  morning !  "  and  he 
plunged  into  the  hiding-places  of  the  theatre. 

''  That  is  a  very  pohte  gentleman  !  "  thought 
Triplet.  He  was  followed  by  the  call  boy,  to 
whom  he  was  explaining  that  his  avocations, 
though  numerous,  would  not  prevent  his  paying 
Mr.  E-ich  the  compliment  of  waiting  all  day  in 
his  greenroom,  sooner  than  go  without  an  answer 
to  thi'ee  important  propositions,  in  which  the 
town  and  the  arts  were  concerned. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  said  the  boy  of  busi- 
ness to  the  man  of  words. 

'"  Mr.  Triplet,"  said  Triplet. 

"  Triplet  ?  There  is-  something  for  you  in  the 
hall,"  said  the  urchin,  and  went  off  to  fetch  it. 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  Triplet  to  himself ;  "  they 
are  accepted.  There's  a  note  in  the  hall  to  fix  the 
reading."  He  then  derided  his  own  absurdity  in 
having  ever  for  a  moment  desponded.  "  Master 
of  three  arts,  by  each  of  which  men  grow  fat, 
how  was  it  possible  he  should  starve  all  his 
days ! " 


110  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

He  enjoyed  a  uatui'al  vanity  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  then  came  more  generous  feelings. 
What  sparkling  eyes  there  would  be  in  Lambeth 
to-day !  The  butcher,  at  sight  of  Mr.  Rich's 
handwriting,  would  give  him  credit.  Jane  should 
have  a  new  gown. 

But  when  his  tragedies  were  played,  and  he 
paid  !  —  El  Dorado  !  —  his  children  should  be 
the  neatest  in  the  street.  Lysimachus  and  Roxa- 
lana  should  learn  the  English  language,  cost  what 
it  might ;  sausages  should  be  diurnal ;  and  he 
himself  would  not  be  puffed  up,  fat,  lazy.  No  ; 
he  would  work  all  the  harder,  be  affable  as  ever, 
and  above  all,  never  swamp  the  father,  husband, 
and  honest  man,  in  the  poet  and  the  blackguard 
of  sentiment. 

Next  his  reflections  took  a  business  turn. 

"  These  tragedies  —  the  scenery  ?  O,  I  shall 
have  to  paint  it  myself.  The  heroes  ?  "Well, 
they  have  nobody  who  will  play  them  as  I  should. 
(This  was  true  !)  It  will  be  hard  work,  all  this  ; 
but  thenl  shall  be  paid  for  it.  I  cannot  go  on 
this  way ;  I  must  and  will  be  paid  separately  for 
my  branches." 

Just  as  he  came  to  this  resolution,  the  boy  re- 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  Ill 

turned  "with  a  brown-paper  parcel,  addressed  to 
Mr.  James  Triplet.  Triplet  weighed  it  in  his 
hand ;  it  was  heavy.  "  How  is  this  ?  "  cried  he. 
"  O,  I  see/'  said  he;  "these  are  the  tragedies. 
He  sends  them  to  me  for  some  trifling  alterations  ; 
managers  always  do."  Triplet  then  determined 
to  adopt  these  alterations,  if  judicious ;  for,  ar- 
gued he,  sensibly  enough,  "  Managers  are  practi- 
cal men  ;  and  we,  in  the  heat  of  composition, 
sometimes  (sic  1)  say  more  than  is  necessary,  and 
become  tedious." 

With  that  he  opened  the  parcel,  and  looked  for 
Mr.  Rich's  communication  ;  it  was  not  in  sight. 
He  had  to  look  between  the  leaves  of  the  manu- 
scripts for  it ;  it  was  not  there.  He  shook  them  ; 
it  did  not  fall  out.  He  shook  them  as  a  dog 
shakes  a  rabbit ;  nothing  ! 

The  tragedies  were  returned  without  a  word. 
It  took  him  some  time  to  realize  the  full  weight 
of  the  blow ;  but  at  last  he  saw  that  the  man- 
ager of  the  Theatre  Royal,  Covent  Garden,  de- 
clined to  take  a  tragedy  by  Triplet  into  consider- 
ation, or  bare  examination. 

He  turned  dizzy  for  a   moment.     Something 


112  PEG     WOFFl  NGTON . 

between  a  sigh  and  a  cry  escaped  him,  and  he 
sank  upon  a  covered  bench  that  ran  along  the 
wall.  His  poor  tragedies  fell  here  and  there 
upon  the  ground,  and  his  head  went  down  upon 
his  hands,  which  rested  on  Mrs.  Woffington's 
picture.  His  anguish  was  so  sharp,  it  choked  his 
breath ;  when  he  recovered  it,  his  eye  bent  down 
upon  the  picture.  "  Ah,  Jane,"  he  groaned, 
*'  you  know  this  villanous  world  better  than  I !  " 
He  placed  the  picture  gently  on  the  seat,  (that 
picture  must  now  be  turned  into  bread,)  and 
slowly  stooped  for  his  tragedies  ;  they  had  fallen 
hither  and  thither;  he  had  to  crawl  about  for 
them ;  he  was  an  emblem  of  all  the  humiliations 
letters  endure. 

As  he  went  after  them  on  all  fours,  more  than 
one  tear  pattered  on  the  dusty  floor.  Poor  fel- 
low !  he  was  Triplet,  and  could  not  have  died 
without  tinging  the  death  rattle  with  some  ab- 
surdity ;  but  after  all,  he  was  a  father  driven  to 
despair ;  a  castle  builder,  with  his  work  rudely 
scattered ;  an  axtist,  brutally  crushed  and  insulted 
by  a  greater  dunce  than  himself. 

Faint,  sick,  and  dark,  he  sat  a  moment  on  the 


PEG    WOFFIXGTON.  113 

seat  before  lie  could  find  strength  to  go  home  and 
destroy  all  the  hopes  he  had  raised. 

Whilst  Triplet  sat  collapsed  on  the  bench^  fate 
sent  into  the  room  all  in  one  moment,  as  if  to 
insult  his  sorrow,  a  creature  that  seemed  the  god- 
dess of  gayety,  impervious  to  a  care.  She  swept 
in  with  a  bold,  free  step,  for  she  was  rehearsing 
a  man's  part,  and  thundered  without  rant,  but 
with  a  spirit  and  fire,  and  pace,  beyond  the  con- 
ception of  our  poor  tame  actresses  of  1852,  these 

lines  :  — 

"  *  Now,  by  the  joys 

Which  my  soul  still  has  uncontrolled  pursued, 

I  would  not  turn  aside  from  my  least  pleasure, 

Though  all  thy  force  were  armed  to  bar  my  way ; 

But,  Hke  the  birds,  great  nature's  happy  commoners, 

Rifle  the  sweets ' 

"  I  beg  —  your  par  —  don,  sir !  "  holding  the 
book  on  a  level  with  her  eye,  she  had  nearly  run 
over.     "  Two  poets  instead  of  one." 

"  Nay,  madam,"  said  Triplet,  admiring,  though 
sad,  wretched,  but  polite,  "pray  continue.  Happy 
the  -hearer,  and  still  happier  the  author  of  verses 
so  spoken.    Ah !  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  lady,  "  if  you  could  per- 
suade authors  what  we  do  for  them,  when  we 
10 


1 H  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

coax  good  music  to  grow  oi>  barren  words.  Are 
you  an  author,  sir  ?  "  added  she,  slyly. 

"  In  a  small  way,  madam.  I  have  here  three 
trifles  — tragedies." 

Mrs.  Woffington  looked  askant  at  them  like  a 
shy  mare. 

"  Ah,  madam ! "  said  Triplet,  in  one  of  his 
insane  fits,  "  if  I  might  but  submit  them  to  such 
a  judgment  as  yours  ?  " 

He  laid  his  hand  on  them.  It  was  as  when  a 
strange  dog  sees  us  go  to  take  up  a  stone. 

The  actress  recoiled. 

"  I  am  no  judge  of  such  things,"  cried  she, 
hastily. 

Triplet  bit  his  lip.  He  could  have  killed  her. 
It  was  provoking,  people  would  rather  be  hung 
than  read  a  manuscript.  Yet  what  hopeless  trash 
they  will  read  in  crowds,  which  was  manuscript 
a  day  ago.     Les  imbeciles ! 

''  No  more  is  the  manager  of  this  theatre  a 
judge  of  such  things,"  cried  the  outraged  quill 
di'iver,  bitterly.  • 

'^  What,  has  he  accepted  them  ?  "  said  needle- 
tongue. 

"  No,  madam,  he  has  had  them  six  months 


PEG    WOFFINGTOX.  115 

and  see,  madam,  lie  has  returned  them  me  with- 
out a  word." 

Triplet's  lip  trembled. 

"  Patience,  my  good  sir,"  was  the  merry  reply. 
''  Tragic  authors  should  possess  that,  for  they 
teach  it  to  their  audiences.  Managers,  sir,  are 
Hke  Eastern  monarchs,  inaccessible  but  to  slaves 
and  sultanas.  Do  you  know  I  called  upon  Mr. 
Rich  fifteen  times  before  I  could  see  him  ?  " 
.    ''  You,  madam  ?     Impossible  !  " 

"  O,  it  was  years  ago,  and  he  has  paid  a  hun- 
dred pounds  for  each  of  those  little  visits.  Well, 
now,  let  me  see,  fifteen  times  ;  you  must  write 
twelve  more  tragedies,  and  then  he  will  read  one  ; 
and  when  he  has  read  it,  he  will  favor  you  with 
his  judgment  upon  it ;  and  when  you  have  got 
that,  you  will  have  what  all  the  world  knows  is 
not  worth  a  farthing.     He !  he  !  he  ! 

'  And  like  the  birds,  gay  Nature's  happy  commoners, 
Rifle  the  sweets '  —  mum  —  mmn  —  mum." 

Her  high  spirits  made  Triplet  sadder.  To 
think  that  one  word  from  this  laughing  lady 
would  secure  his  work  a  hearing,  and  that  he 
dared  not  ask  her.     She  was  up  in  the  world. 


116  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

he  was  down.  She  was  great,  he  was  nobody 
He  felt  a  sort  of  chill  at  this  woman  —  all  brains 
and  no  heart.  He  took  his  picture  and  his  plays 
under  his  arms  and  crept  sorrowfully  away. 

The  actress's  eye  fell  on  him  as  he  went  off 
like  a  fifth  act.  His  Don  Quixote  face  struck 
her.     She  had  seen  it  before. 

*^  Su*/'  said  she. 

"  Madam/'  said  Triplet,  at  the  door. 

"  We  have  met  before.  There,  don't  speak, 
I'll  tell  you  who  you  are.  Yours  is  a  face  that 
has  been  good  to  me,  and  I  never  forget  them." 

"  Me,  madam !  "  said  Triplet,  taken  aback.  "  I 
trust  I  know  what  is  due  to  you  better  than  to 
be  good  to  you,  madam,"  said  he,  in  his  confused 
way. 

"  To  be  sure  !  "  cried  she,  "  it  is  Mr.  Triplet, 
good  Mr.  Triplet !  "  And  this  vivacious  dame, 
putting  her  book "  down,  seized  both  Triplet's 
hands  and  shook  them. 

He  shook  hers  warmly  in  retui'n  out  of  excess 
of  timidity,  and  di'opped  tragedies,  and  kicked 
at  them  convulsively  when  they  were  down,  for 
fear  they  should  be  in  her  way,  and  his  mouth 
opened,  and  his  eyes  glared. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  117 

"  Mr.  Triplet,"  said  the  lady,  "  do  you  re- 
member an  Irish,  orange  girl  you  used  to  give 
sixpence  to  at  Goodman's  Fields,  and  pat  her 
on  the  head  and  give  her  good  advice,  like  a 
good  old  soul  as  you  were  ?  She  took  the  six- 
pence." 

"  Madam,"  said  Trip,  recovering  a  grain  of 
pomp,  "  singidar  as  it  may  appear,  I  remember 
the  young  person  ;  she  was  very  engaging.  I 
trust  no  harm  hath  befallen  her,  for  methought 
I  discovered,  in  spite  of  her  brogue,  a  beautiful 
nature  in  her." 

"  Go  along  wid  your  blarney,"  answered  a  rich 
brogue  ;  "  an  is  it  the  comanther  ye'd  be  putting 
on  poor  little  Peggy  ?  " 

^^  O !  O  gracious  !  "  gasped  Triplet. 

'^  Yes,"  was  the  reply ;  but  into  that  "  yes " 
she  threw  a  whole  sentence  of  meaning.  "  Fine 
cha-ney  oran-ges  ! "  chanted  she,  to  put  the  mat- 
ter beyond  dispute. 

"Am  I  really  so  honored  as  to  have  patted 
you  on  tjiat  queen-like  head  ! "  and  he  glared 
at  it. 

"  On  the  same  head  which  now  I  wear,"  re- 
plied she,  pompously.     "  I  kept  it  for  the  con- 


118  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

vaynience  hintirely,  only  there's  more  in  it. 
Well,  INIr.  Triplet,  you  see  what  Time  has  done 
for  me  ;  now,  tell  me  whether  he  has  been  as 
kind  to  you  :  are  you  going  to  speak  to  me,  Mr. 
Triplet  ?  " 

As  a  decayed  hunter  stands  lean  and  disconso- 
late, head  poked  forward  like  a  goose's,  but  if 
hounds  sweep  by  his  paddock  in  full  cry,  followed 
by  horses  who  are  what  he  was  not,  he  does  by 
reason  of  the  good  blood  that  is  and  will  be  in  his 
heart,  dum  spiritus  hoss  regit  artus,  cock  his  ears, 
erect  his  tail,  and  trot  fiery  to  his  extremest  hedge, 
and  look  over  it,  nostril  distended,  mane  flowing, 
and  neigh  the  hunt  onward  Uke  a  trumpet ;  so 
Triplet,  who  had  manhood  at  bottom,  instead  of 
whining  out  his  troubles  in  the  ear  of  encouraging 
beauty,  as  a  sneaking  spirit  would,  perked  up, 
and  resolved  to  put  the  best  face  upon  it  all  be- 
fore so  charming  a  creatui'e  of  the  other  sex. 

"  Yes,  madam,"  cried  he,  with  the  air  of  one 
who  could  have  smacked  his  lips,  "  Providence 
has  blessed  me  with  an  excellent  wife  and  four 
charming  children,  My  wife  was  Miss  Chatter- 
ton  :  vou  remember  her  ?  " 

"  Yes  !     "Where  is  she  playing  now  ?  " 


PFG    WOFFINGTOX.  119 

f<  Why,  madam,  her  health  is  too  weak  for  it." 

"  O  !  —  You  were  scene  painter.  Do  you  still 
paint  scenes  ?  " 

"  With  the  pen,  madam,  not  the  brush  :  as  the 
wags  said,  I  transferred  the  distemper  firom  my 
canvas  to  my  imagination."  And  Triplet  laughed 
uproariously. 

When  he  had  done,  Mrs.  Woffington,  who  had 
joined  the  laugh,  inquired  quietly  whether  his 
pieces  had  met  with  success. 

"  Eminent  —  in  the  closet ;  the  stage  is  to 
come  ! "  and  he  smiled  absurdly  again. 

The  lady  smiled  back. 

"  In  short,"  said  Triplet,  recapitulating,  "  be- 
ing blessed  with  health,  and  more  tastes  in  the 
arts  than  most,  and  a  cheerful  spirit,  I  should  be 
wrong,  madam,  to  repine  ;  and  this  day,  in  par- 
ticular, is  a  happy  one,"  added  the  rose  colorist, 
"  since  the  great  Mrs.  Woffington  has  deigned  to 
remember  me,  and  call  me  firiend." 

Such  was  Triplet's  summary. 

Mrs.  Woffington  drew  out  her  memorandum 
book,  and  took  down  her  summaiy  of  the  crafty 
Triplet's  facts.  So  easy  is  it  for  us  Triplets  to 
draw  the  wool  over  the  eyes  of  women  and  Wof- 
fingtons. 


120  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Triplet,  discharged  £i-om  scene  painting ;  wife 
no  engagement ;  four  children  supported  by  his 
pen  —  that  is  to  say,  starving;  lose  no  time!" 
She  closed  her  book,  and  smiled,  and  said,  — 
''  I  wish  these  things  were  comedies  instead  of 
trash-edies,  as  the  French  call  tiiem ;  we  would 
cut  one  in  half,  and  shoe  away  the  finest  passages, 
and  then  I  would  act  in  it ;  and  you  would  see 
how  the  stage  door  would  fly  open  at  sight  of  the 
author." 

"  0  Heaven !  "  said  poor  Trip,  excited  by  this 
picture.  "  I'll  go  home,  and  write  a  comedy  this 
moment." 

"  Stay  ! "  said  she  ;  "  you  had  better  leave  the 
tragedies  with  me." 

*'*  My  dear  madam  !  you  will  read  them  ?  " 
*^  Ahem  !     I  will  make  poor  Rich  read  them." 
**  But,  madam,  he  has  rejected  them." 
"  That  is  the  first  step.     Reading  them  comes 
after,  when  it  comes  at  all.     What  have  you  got 
in  that  green  baize  ? " 
"  In  this  green  baize  ?  " 
"  Well,  in  this  green  baize,  then." 
"  0,  madam  !  nothing — nothing  !     To  tell  the 
truth,  it  is  an  adventurous  attempt  from  memory. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  121 

I  saw  you  play  Silvia,  madam  ;  I  was  so  charmed, 
tliat  I  came  every  night.  I  took  your  face  home 
with  me  —  forgive  my  presumption,  madam  — 
and  I  produced  this  faint  adumbration,  which  I 
expose  with  diffidence." 

So,  then,  he  took  the  green  baize  off. 

The  color  rushed  into  her  face ;  she  was  evi- 
dently gratified.  Poor,  silly  Mrs.  Triplet  was 
doomed  to  be  right  about  this  portrait. 

"  I  will  give  you  a  sitting,"  said  she.  '^  You 
will  find  painting  dull  faces  a  better  trade  than 
writing  dull  tragedies.  Work  for  other  people's 
vanity,  not  your  own ;  that  is  the  art  of  art.  And 
now  I  want  Mr.  Triplet's  address." 

"  On  the  fly-leaf  of  each  work,  madam,"  re- 
phed  that  florid  author,  "  and  also  at  the  foot  of 
every  page  which  contains  a  particularly  brilliant 
passage,  I  have  been  careful  to  insert  the  address 
of  James  Triplet,  painter,  actor,  and  dramatist, 
and  Mrs.  Woffington's  humble,  devoted  servant." 
He  bowed  ridiculously  low,  and  moved  towards 
the  door  ;  but  something  gushed  across  his  heart, 
and  he  retui'ned  with  long  strides  to  her.  '^  Mad- 
am !  "  cried  he,  with  a  janty  manner,  "  you  have 
inspired  a  son  of  Thespis  with  di'eams  of  elo- 
11 


122  PEG    WOFFTNCJTON. 

quence,  you  luive  tuned  in  a  lii^lier  key  a  poet's 
lyre,  you  liave  tinged  a  painter's  existence  with 

brighter   colors,    and  —  and "      His   mouth 

worked  still,  but  no  more  artificial  words  would 
come.  He  sobbed  out,  "  And  God  in  heaven 
bless  you,  Mrs.  Woffington  !  "  and  ran  out  of  the 
room. 

Mrs.  Woffington  looked  after  him  with  interest, 
for  tills  confirmed  her  suspicions  ;  but  suddenly 
her  expression  changed  ;  she  wore  a  look  we  have 
not  yet  seen  upon  her  —  it  was  a  half-cunning, 
half-spiteful  look  :  it  was  suppressed  in  a  mo- 
ment ;  she  gave  herself  to  her  book,  and  pres- 
ently Sir  Charles  Pomander  sauntered  into  the 
room. 

"  Ah  !  what,  Mrs.  Woffington  here  ?  "  said  the 
diplomate. 

"  Sii'  Charles  Pomander,  I  declare  !  "  said  the 
actress. 

"  I  have  just  parted  with  an  admirer  of  yours." 

"  I  wish  I  could  part  with  them  all,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  A  pastoral  youth,  who  means  to  win  La  Wof- 
fington by  agricultui'al  coui'tship  —  As  shepherds 
woo  in  sylvan  shades." 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  123 

"  '  With -oaten  pipe  the  rustic  maids,'  " 

quoth  the  Woffiiigtoiij  improvising. 

The  diplomate  laughed,  the  actress  laughed, 
and  said,  laughingly,  "  Tell  me  what  he  says, 
word  for  woi  c/  ?  " 

"  It  will  only  make  you  laugh." 

"Well,  and  am  I  never  to  laugh,  who  provide 
so  many  laughs  for  you  all  ? " 

"  C'est  juste.  You  shall  share  the  general 
merriment.  Imagine  a  romantic  soul,  who  adores 
you  for  your  simplicity  !  " 

"  jNIy  simplicity  !     Am  I  so  very  simple  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Sir  Charles,  monstrous  diyly. 
"  He  says  you  are  out  of  place  on  the  stage, 
and  wants  to  take  the  star  from  its  firmament, 
and  put  it  in  a  cottage." 

"  I  am  not  a  star,"  replied  the  "VYoffington, 
"  I  am  only  a  meteor.  And  what  does  the  man 
think  I  am  to  do  without  this,  (here  she  imi- 
tated applause,)  from  my  dear  public's  thousand 
hands?" 

"  You  are  to  have  this,  (he  mimicked  a  kiss,) 
from  a  single  mouth,  instead." 

"  He  is  mad  !     Tell   me  what   more  he  says. 


124  PEG    WOFFTNGTON. 

O,   don't  stop  to  im'cnt  ;    I  slioiiJd  detect  you 
and  you  would  only  spoil  this  man." 

He  laughed  conceitedly.  ^'  I  should  spoil 
him  !  Well  then,  he  proposes  to  be  your  friend 
rather  than  your  lover,  and  keep  you  from  being 
talked  of,  he  !  he  !  instead  of  adding  to  your  eclat. ^^ 

"  And  if  he  is  yom-  friend,  why  don't  you  tell 
liim  my  real  character,  and  send  him  into  the 
country  ? " 

She  said  this  rapidly  and  with  an  appearance 
of  earnest.     The  diplomatist  fell  into  the  trap. 

"  I  do,"  said  he  ;  "  but  he  snaps  his  fingers  at 
me,  and  common  sense,  and  the  world.  I  really 
tliink  there  is  only  one  way  to  get  rid  of  him, 
and  with  him  of  every  annoyance." 

"  Ah  !  that  would  be  nice." 

"  Delicious  !  I  had  the  honor,  madam,  of  lay- 
ing certain  proposals  at  your  feet." 

^^O,  yes  —  your  letter,  Sii'  Charles.  I  have 
only  just  had  time  to  run  my  eye  down  it.  Let 
us  examine  it  together." 

She  took  out  the  letter  with  a  wonderful  ap- 
pearance of  interest,  and  the  diplomate  allowed 
himself  to  fall  into  the  absm-d  position  to  which 
she  invited  him.  They  put  their  two  heads  to- 
gether over  the  letter. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  125 

'^  ^  A  coach,  a  country .  house,  pin  money '  — 
and  I'm  so  tired  of  houses,  and  coaches,  and  pins. 
O,  yes,  here's  something ;  what  is  this  you  offer 
me,  up  in  this  corner  ?  " 

Sir  Charles  inspected  the  place  carefully,  and 
announced  that  it  was  "  his  heart." 

"  And  he  can't  even  write  it ! "  said  she. 
'^  That  word  is  ^  earth.'  Ah !  well,  you  know 
best.     There  is  your  letter.  Sir  Charles." 

She  courtesied,  returned  him  the  letter,  and 
resumed  her  study  of  Lothario. 

"  Favor  me  with  your  answer,  madam,"  said 
her  suitor. 

"  You  have  it,"  was  the  reply. 

"Madam,  I  don't  understand  your  answer," 
said  Sir  Charles,  stiffly. 

^'  I  can't  find  you  answers  and  undej^stan dings 
too,"  was  the  lady-Hke  reply.  "  You  must  beat 
my  answer  into  youi-  understanding  whilst  I  beat 
this  man's  verse  into  mine. 

"  'And  like  the  birds,'  &c." 

Pomander  recovered  himself  a  little ;  he 
laughed  with  quiet  insolence.  "  Tell  me,"  said 
he,  "  do  you  really  refuse  ?  " 


126  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

ff  My  good  soul/'  said  Mrs.  Woffington,  "  why 
this  sui'prise  ?  Are  you  so  ignorant  of  tlie  stage 
and  the  world,  as  not  to  know  that  I  refuse  such 
ojBfers  as  yours  every  week  of  my  life." 

"I  know  better/'  was  the  cool  reply.  She 
left  it  unnoticed. 

"  I  have  so  many  of  these,"  continued  she, 
"  that  I  have  begun  to  forget  they  are  insults." 

At  this  word  the  button  broke  off  Sir  Charles's 
foil. 

"  Insults,  madam !  they  are  the  highest  com- 
pliments you  have  left  it  in  our  power  to  pay  you." 

The  other  took  the  button  off  her  foil. 

'^  Indeed !  "  cried  she,  with  well- feigned  sur- 
prise. "  O,  I  understand.  To  be  your  mis- 
tress, could  be  but  a  temporary  disgrace ;  to  be 
your  wife,  would  be  a  lasting  discredit,"  she  con- 
tinued. **And  now,  sir,  having  played  your 
rival's  game,  and  showed  me  your  whole  hand, 
(a  light  broke  in  upon  our  diplomate,)  do  some- 
thing to  recover  the  reputation  of  a  man  of  the 
world.  A  gentleman  is  somewhere  about  in 
whom  you  have  interested  me  by  your  lame 
satire  ;  pray  tell  him  I  am  in  the  greenroom, 
with  no  better  companion  than  this  bad  poet." 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  127 

Sir  diaries  clinched  his  teeth. 

"  I  accept  the  delicate  commission,"  replied 
he,  "  that  you  may  see  how  easily  the  man  of 
the  world  drops  what  the  rustic  is  eager  to  pick 
up." 

"  That  is  better,"  said  the  actress,  with  a  pro- 
voking appearance  of  good  humor.  *^  You  have 
a  woman's  tongue,  if  not  her  wit ;  but,  my  good 
soul,"  added  she,  with  cool  hauteur,  "  remember 
you  have  something  to  do  of  more  importance 
than  any  thing  you  can  say." 

"  I  accept  your  comteous  dismissal,  madam," 
said  Pomander,  grinding  his  teeth.  "  I  will  send 
a  carpenter  for  your  swain;  and  I  leave  you." 

He  bowed  to  the  ground. 

"  Thanks  for  the  double  favor,  good  Sir 
Charles." 

She  courtesied  to  the  floor. 

Feminine  vengeance  !  He  had  come  between 
her  and  her  love.  All  very  clever,  Mrs.  Actress  ; 
but  was  it  wise  ? 

"I  am  revenged,"  thought  Mrs.  "WoiRngton, 
with  a  little  feminine  smirk. 

"I  will  be  revenged,"  vowed  Pomander, 
clinching  his  teeth. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

Compare  a  November  day  with  a  May  day 
They  are  not  more  unlike  than  a  beautiful  woman 
in  company  with  a  man  she  is  indifferent  to  or 
averse,  and  the  same  woman  with  the  man  of  her 
heart  by  her  side. 

At  sight  of  Mr.  Vane,  all  her  coldness  and 
nonchalance  gave  way  to  a  gentle  complacency ; 
and  when  she  spoke  to  him,  her  voice,  so  clear 
and  cutting  in  the  late  assaut  d^armes,  sank  of 
its  own  accord  into  the  most  tender,  dehcious 
tone  imaginable. 

Mr.  Vane  and  she  made  love.  He  pleased 
her,  and  she  desired  to  please  him.  My  reader 
knows  her  wit,  her  finesse,  her  fluency ;  but  he 
cannot  conceive  how  godhke  was  her  way  of 
making  love.  I  can  put  a  few  of  the  corpses  of 
her  words  upon  paper,  but  where  are  the  heav- 
enly tones  —  now  calm  and  convincing,  now  soft 
and  melancholy,  now  thi'illing  with  tenderness, 
now  glowing  with  the  fiery  eloquence  of  passion  ? 

128 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  129 

She  told  him  that  she  knew  the  map  of  his  face ; 
that,  for  some  days  past,  he  had  been  subject  to 
an  influence  adverse  to  her.  She  begged  him, 
cahnly,  for  his  own  sake,  to  distiiist  false  friends, 
and  judge  her  by  his  own  heart,  eyes,  and  judg- 
ment.    He  promised  her  he  would. 

'^  And  I  do  trust  you,  in  spite  of  them  all," 
said  he  ;  "  for  your  face  is  the  shrine  of  sincerity 
and  candor.     I  alone  know  you." 

Then  she  prayed  him  to  observe  the  heartless- 
ness  of  liis  sex,  and  to  say  whether  she  had  done 
ill  to  hide  the  riches  of  her  heart  firom  the  cold 
and  shallow,  and  to  keep  them  all  for  one  honest 
man,  '^  who  will  be  my  Mend,  I  hope,"  said  she, 
"as  well  as  my  lover." 

"  Ah,"  said  Vane,  "  that  is  my  ambition." 

''"We  actresses,"  said  she,  ^'make  good  the 
old  proverb,  ^  Many  lovers,  but  few  friends.' 
And,  O,  'tis  we  who  need  a  friend.  Will  you 
be  mine  ?  " 

"Whilst  he  lived,  he  would. 

In  turn,  he  begged  her  to  be  generous,  and 
tell  him  the  way  for  him,  Ernest  Vane,  inferior 
in  wit  and  address  to  many  of  her  admirers,  to 
win  her  heart  from  them  all. 


130  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

This  singular  womau's  answer  is,  I  tliink, 
worth  attention. 

"  Never  act  in  my  presence ;  noA^er  try  to  be 
eloquent  or  clever;  never  force  a  sentiment,  or 
turn  a  phi'ase.  Remember,  I  am  the  goddess  of 
tricks.  Do  not  descend  to  competition  with  me 
and  the  Pomanders  of  the  world.  At  all  Httle- 
nesses  you  will  ever  be  awkward  in  my  eyes. 
And  I  am  a  woman.  I  must  have  a  superior 
to  love  —  lie  open  to  my  eye.  Light  itself  is 
not  more  beautiful  than  the  upright  man,  whose 
bosom  is  open  to  the  day.  O,  yes  !  fear  not  you 
will  be  my  superior,  dear ;  for  in  me  honesty  has 
to  struggle  against  the  habits  of  my  art  and  life. 
Be  simple  and  sincere,  and  I  shall  love  you,  and 
bless  the  hour  you  shone  upon  my  cold,  artificial 
life.  Ah,  Ernest !  "  said  she,  fixing  on  his  eyes 
her  own,  the  fire  of  which  melted  into  ten- 
derness as  she  spoke,  "  be  my  fi'iend.  Come 
between  me  and  the  temptations  of  an  unpro- 
tected life  —  the  recklessness  of  a  vacant  heart." 

He  threw  himseK  at  her  feet.  He  called  her 
an  angel.  He  told  her  he  was  unworthy  of  her, 
but  that  he  would  try  and  deserve  her.  Then  he 
hesitated ;  and,  trembling,  he  said,  — 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  131 

"  I  will  be  frank  and  loyal.  Had  I  not  better 
tell  you  every  thing  ?  You  will  not  bate  me  for 
a  confession  I  make  myself." 

"  I  shall  like  you  better  —  O,  so  much  better !  " 

"  Then  I  will  own  to  you " 

"  O,  do  not  tell  me  you  have  ever  loved  before 
me  !  I  could  not  bear  to  hear  it !  "  cried  this 
inconsistent  personage. 

The  other  weak  creature  needed  no  more. 

"  I  see  plainly  I  never  loved  but  you/'  said  he. 

"  Let  me  hear  that  only  I  "  cried  she  ;  "  I  am 
jealous  even  of  the  past.  Say  you  never  loved 
but  me  :  never  mind  whether  it  is  true.  My 
child,  you  do  not  even  yet  know  love.  Ernest, 
shall  I  make  you  love  —  as  none  of  your  sex 
ever  loved  —  with  heart,  and  brain,  and  breath, 
and  life,  and  soul  ?  " 

With  these  rapturous  words,  she  poured  the 
soul  of  love  into  his  eyes ;  he  forgot  every  thing 
in  the  world  but  her ;  he  dissolved  in  present 
happiness,  and  vowed  himself  hers  forever ;  and 
she,  for  her  part,  bade  him  but  retain  her  esteem, 
and  no  woman  ever  went  farther  in  love  than  she 
would.  She  was  a  true  epicure  :  she  had  learned 
that  passion,  vulgar  in  itself,  is  godlike  when 
based  upon  esteem. 


132  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

Tliis  tender  scene  was  inteirupted  by  tlie  call 
boy,  who  brought  Mrs.  Woffington  a  note  from 
the  manager,  informing  her  there  would  be  no 
rehearsal.  This  left  her  at  liberty,  and  she  pro- 
ceeded to  take  a  somewhat  abrupt  leave  of  Mr. 
Vane.  He  w^as  endeavoring  to  persuade  her  to 
let  him  be  her  companion  until  dinner  time,  (she 
was  to  be  his  guest,)  when  Pomander  entered  the 
room. 

Mrs.  Woffington,  however,  was  not  to  be  per- 
suaded ;  she  excused  herself  on  the  score  of  a 
duty  which  she  said  she  had  to  perform,  and 
whispering  as  she  passed  Pomander,  "  Keep  your 
own  counsel,"  she  went  out  rather  precipitately. 

Vane  looked  slightly  disappointed. 

Sir  Charles,  who  had  returned  to  see  whether 
(as  he  fully  expected)  she  had  told  Vane  every 
thing,  —  and  who,  at  that  moment,  perhaps, 
would  not  have  been  soriy  had  Mrs.  Woffington's 
lover  called  him  to  serious  account,  —  finding  it 
was  not  her  intention  to  make  mischief,  and  not 
choosing  to  publish  his  own  defeat,  dropped 
quietly  into  his  old  line,  and  determined  to  keep 
the  lovers  in  sight,  and  play  for  revenge.  He 
smiled,   and    said,    "  My  good   sir,   nobody   can 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  133 

hope  to  monopolize  Mrs.  Woffington  :  slie  has 
others  to  do  justice  to  besides  you." 

To  his  suiprise,  Mr.  Vane  turned  instantly 
round  upon  him,  and  looking  him  haughtily  in 
the  face,  said,  "  Sir  Charles  Pomander,  the  set- 
tled maligiiity  with  which  you  pursue  that  lady 
is  unmanly,  and  offensive  to  me,  who  love  her. 
Let  our  acquaintance  cease  here,  if  you  please, 
or  let  her  be  sacred  from  your  venomous  tongue." 

Sir  Charles  bowed  stiffly,  and  replied,  that  it 
was  only  due  to  himself  to  withdi*aw  a  protection 
so  little  appreciated. 

The  two  friends  were  in  the  very  act  of  sepa- 
rating forever,  when  who  should  run  in  but  Pom- 
pey,  the  renegade.  He  darted  up  to  Sir  Charles, 
and  said,  "  Massa  Pomannah,  she  in  a  coach, 
going  to  10,  Hercules  Buildings.  I'm  in  a  hurry, 
Massa  Pomannah." 

"  Where  ?  "  cried  Pomander.  "  Say  that 
again." 

"  10,  Hercules  Buildings,  Lambeth.  Me  in 
a  hurry,  Massa  Pomannah." 

"  Faithful  child,  there's  a  guinea  for  thee. 
Fly ! " 

The  slave  flew,  and  taking  a  short  cut,  caught 


134  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

and  fastened  on  to  the  slow  veliicle  in  the 
Strand. 

"  It  is  a  house  of  rendez-vous,"  said  Sir 
Charles,. half  to  himself,  half  to  Mr.  Vane.  He 
repeated,  in  triumph,  "  It  is  a  house  of  rendez- 
vous." He  then,  recovering  his  sang  froid,  and 
treating  it  all  as  a  matter  of  course,  explained 
that  at  10,  Hercules  Buildings,  was  a  fashionable 
shop,  with  entrances  from  two  streets ;  that  the 
best  Indian  scarfs  and  shawls  were  sold  there, 
and  that  ladies  kept  theu'  carriages  waiting  an 
immense  time  in  the  principal  street,  whilst  they 
were  supposed  to  be  in  the  shop,  or  the  show 
room.  He  then  went  on  to  say,  that  he  had  only 
this  morning  heard,  that  the  intimacy  between 
Mrs.  Woffington  and  a  Colonel  Murthwaite,  al- 
though publicly  broken  off  for  prudential  reasons, 
was  still  clandestinely  carried  on.  She  had, 
doubtless,  slipped  away  to  meet  the  colonel. 

Mr.  Vane  turned  pale. 

"  No  !  I  will  not  suspect.  I  will  not  dog  her 
like  a  bloodhound,"  cried  he. 

"  I  will !  "  said  Pomander. 

"  You  !     By  what  right  ?  " 

^'  The  right  of  curiosity.     I  will  know  wheth- 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  135 

er  it  is  you  wlio  are  imposed  on ;  or  whether  you 
are  right,  and  all  the  world  is  deceived  in  this 
woman." 

He  ran  out ;  but  for  all  his  speed,  when  he  got 
into  the  street,  there  was  the  jealous  lover  at  his 
elbow.  They  darted  with  all  speed  into  the 
Strand;  got  a  coach.  Sir  Charles,  on  the  box, 
gave  Jehu  a  guinea,  and  took  the  reins  —  and  by 
a  Niagara  of  whip-cord  they  attained  Lambeth ; 
and,  at  length,  to  his  delight.  Pomander  saw 
another  coach  before  him  with  a  gold-laced  black 
slave  behind  it.  The  coach  stopped ;  and  the 
slave  came  to  the  door.  The  shop  in  question 
was  a  few  hundred  yards  distant.  •  The  adi'oit  Sir 
Charles  not  only  stopped,  but  turned  his  coach, 
and  let  the  horses  crawl  back  towards  London ; 
he  also  flogged  the  side  panels  to  draw  the  atten- 
tion of  Mr.  Vane.  That  gentleman  looked 
through  the  little  circular  window  at  the  back 
of  the  veliicle,  and  saw  a  lady  paying  the  coach- 
man. There  was  no  mistaking  her  figure.  This 
lady,  then,  followed  at  a  distance  by  her  slave, 
walked  on  towards  Hercules  Buildings ;  and  it 
was  his  miserable  fate  to  see  her  look  uneasily 
round,  and  at  last  glide  in  at  a  side  door,  close 
to  the  silk  mercer's  shop. 


136  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

The  carriage  stopped.  Sii*  Charles  came  him- 
self to  the  door. 

"  Now,  Vane/'  said  he,  "  before  I  consent  to 
go  any  farther  in  this  business,  you  must  promise 

me  to  be  cool  and  reasonable.     I  abhor  absurdi- 

* 

ty ;  and  there  must  be  no  swords  drawn  for  this 
little  hypocrite." 

"  I  submit  to  no  dictation,"  said  Vane,  white 
as  a  sheet. 

^'You  have  benefited  so  far  by' my  knowl- 
edge," said  the  other,  politely;  "let  me,  who 
am  self-possessed,  claim  some  influence  with 
you  ?  " 

"  Forgive  me-!  "  said  poor  Vane.  "  My  ang  — 
my  sorrow  that  such  an  angel  should  be  a  mon- 
ster of  deceit."     He  could  say  no  more. 

They  walked  to  the  shop. 

"How  she  peeped  this  way  and  that,"  said 
Pomander,  "  sly  little  Woffy  !  " 

"  No  !  on  second  thoughts,"  said  he,  "  it  is  the 
other  street  we  must  reconnoitre ;  and  if  we  don't 
see  her  there,  we  will  enter  the  shop,  and  by  dint 
of  this  purse,  we  shall  soon  untie  the  knot  of  the 
"Woffington  riddle." 

Vane  leaned  heavily  on  his  tormentor. 

"  I  am  faint,"  said  he. 


PEG   WOFFINGTON.  137 

"  Lean  on  me,  my  dear  Mend/'  said  Sir 
Charles.  "  Your  weakness  will  leave  you  in 
the  next  street." 

In  the  next  street  they  discovered  — ^nothing. 
In  the  shop  tl^  found  —  no  Mrs.  Woffington. 
They  returned  to  the  principal  street.  Vane 
began  to  hope  there  was  no  positive  evidence. 
Suddenly  three  stories  up  a  fiddle  was  heard. 
Pomander  took  no  notice,  but  Vane  turned  red ; 
this  put  Sir  Charles  upon  the  scent. 

"  Stay  !  "  said  he.  "  Is  not  that  an  Irish 
tune?" 

Vane  groaned.  He  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands,  and  hissed  out,  — 

"  It  is  her  favorite  tune." 

"  Aha  ! "  said  Pomander.     "  Follow  me." 

They  crept  up  the  stairs.  Pomander  in  ad- 
vance ;  they  heard  the  signs  of  an  Irish  orgie  — 
a  rattling  jig  played,  and  danced  with  the  in- 
spuiting  interjections  of  that  fii'olicsome  nation. 
These  sounds  ceased  after  a  while,  and  Pomander 
laid  his  hand  on  his  friend's  shoulder. 

"  I  prepare  you,"  said  he,  "  for  what  you  are 
sure  to  see.  This  woman  was  an  Irish  brick- 
layer's daughter,  and  'what  is  bred  in  the  bone 
12 


138  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

never  comes  out  of  the  flesh.'  You  will  find  her 
sitting  on  some  Irishman's  knee,  whose  limbs  are 
ever  so  much  stouter  than  yours.  You  are  the 
man  of  her  head,  and  this  is  the  man  of  her 
heart.  These  things  would  be  ii^nstrous  if  they 
were  not  common  ;  incredible,  if  we  did  not  see 
them  every  day.  But  this  poor  fellow,  whom 
probably  she  deceives  as  well  as  you,  is  not  to  be 
sacrificed  like  a  dog  to  your  unjust  wrath  :  he  is 
as  superior  to  her  as  you  are  to  him." 

''  I  will  commit  no  violence,"  said  Vane.  "  I 
stni  hope  she  is  innocent." 

Pomander  smiled,  and  said  he  hoped  so  too. 

"  And  if  she  is  what  you  think,  I  will  but 
show  her  she  is  known  ;  and  blaming  myself  as 
much  as  her,  —  0,  yes,  more  than  her  —  I  will 
go  down  this  night  to  Shropshire,  and  never 
speak  word  to  her  again  in  this  world  or  the 
next." 

*'  Good !  "  said  Sir  Charles. 

**  *  Le  bruit  est  pour  le  fat,  la  plainte  est  pour  le  sot, 
L'honn^te  homme  tromp6  s'^loigne  et  ne  dit  mot.' 

Are  you  ready  ?  " 
"  Yes." 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  139 

"  Then  follow  me." 

Turning  the  handle  gently,  he  opened  the  door 
like  Hghtning,  and  was  in  the  room.  Vane's 
head  peered  over  his  shoulder.  She  was  actu- 
ally there ! 

For  once  in  her  life  the  cautious,  artful  woman 
was  taken  by  surprise.  She  gave  a  little  scream, 
and  turned  as  red  as  fire.  But  Sir  Charles  sur- 
prised somebody  else  even  more  than  he  did  poor 
Mrs.  Woffington. 

It  would  be  impertinent  to  tantaKze  my  reader ; 
but  I  flatter  myself  this  history  is  not  written  with 
power  enough  to  do  that ;  and  I  may  ventui*e  to 
leave  him  to  guess  whom  Sir  Charles  Pomander 
surprised  more  than  he  did  the  actress,  while  I 
go  back  for  the  lagging  sheep. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

James  Triplet,  water  in  his  eye,  but  fire  in 
his  heart,  went  home  on  wings.  Arrived  there, 
he  anticipated  curiosity  by  informing  all  hands 
he  should  answer  no  questions.  Only  in  the 
intervals  of  a  work,  which  was  to  take  the  fam- 
ily out  of  all  its  troubles,  he  should  gradually 
unfold  a  tale,  verging  on  the  marvellous  —  a  tale 
whose  only  fault  was^  that  fiction,  by  which  alone 
the  family  could  hope  to  be  great,  paled  beside 
it.  He  then  seized  some  sheets  of  paper,  fished 
out  some  old  dramatic  sketches,  and  a  hst  of 
dramatis  personcB,  prepared  years  ago,  and 
plunged  into  a  comedy.  As  he  wrote,  true  to 
his  promise,  he  painted.  Triplet-wise,  that  story 
which  we  have  coldly  related,  and  made  it  ap- 
pear to  all  but  Mrs.  Triplet,  that  he  was  under 
the  tutela,  or  express  protection,  of  Mrs.  Wof- 
fington,  who  would  push  his  fortunes  until  the 
only  difficulty  would  be  to  keep  arrogance  out  of 
the  family  heart. 

140 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  141 

Mrs.  Triplet  groaned  aloud.  "You  liave 
brought  the  picture  home,  I  see/'  said  she. 

"  Of  course  I  have.  She  is  going  to  give  me 
a  sitting." 

"  At  what  hour  of  what  day  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Triplet,  with  a  world  of  meaning. 

"  She  did  not  say/'  rephed  Triplet,  avoiding 
his  wife's  eye. 

"  I  know  she  did  not/'  was  the  answer.  "  I 
would  rather  you  had  brought  me  the  ten  shil- 
lings than  this  fine  story/'  said  she. 

"  Wife  !  "  said  Triplet,  "  don't  put  me  into  a 
a  frame  of  mind  in  which  successful  comedies  are 
not  written."  He  scribbled  away  ;  but  his  wife's 
despondency  told  upon  the  man  of  disappoint- 
ments. Then  he  stuck  fast ;  then  he  became 
fidgety. 

"Do  keep  those  children  quiet,"  said  the 
father. 

"  Hush,  my  dears,"  said  the  mother ;  "  let 
your  father  write.  Comedy  seems  to  give  you 
more  trouble  than  tragedy,  James,"  added  she, 
soothingly. 

"  Yes,"  was  his  answer.  "  Sorrow  comes, 
somehow,  more  natural  to  me  ;  but  for  all  that  I 


142  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

have  got  a  bright  thought,  Mrs.  Triplet.     Listen 
all  of  you.     You  see,   Jane,   they   are  all  at  a 
sumptuous  banquet,  all  the  dramatis  personce,  ex- 
cept the  poet." 

Triplet  went  on  writing,  and  reading  his  work 
out  :  "  Music,  sparkling  wine,  massive  plate,  rose 
water  in  the  hand  glasses,  soup,  fish  —  shall  I 
have  three  sorts  of  fish  ?  I  will ;  they  are  cheap 
in  this  market.  Ah,  Fortune,  you  wretch,  here 
at  least  I  am  your  master,  and  I'll  make  you 
know  it  —  venison,"  wrote  Triplet,  with  a  mali- 
cious grin,  '^game,  pickles,  and  provocatives  in 
the  centre  of  the  table,  then  up  jumps  one  of  the 
guests,  and  says  he " 

"  O  dear,  I  am  so  hungry !  " 

This  was  not  from  the  comedy,  but  from  one 
of  the  boys. 

'^  And  so  am  I,"  cried  a  girl. 

"  That  is  an  absurd  remark,  Lysimachus,"  said 
Triplet,  with  a  suspicious  calmness. 

"  How  can  a  boy  be  hungry  three  hours  after 
breakfast  ?  " 

"  But,  father,  there  was  no  breakfast  for  break- 
fast." 

"  Now  I  ask  you,  Mrs.  Triplet,"  appealed  the 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.        '  143 

author,  "  how  am  I  to  write  comic  scenes  if  you 
let  Lysimachus  and  Roxalana  here  put  the  heavy 
business  in  every  five  minutes  ?  " 

"  Forgive  them  ;  the  poor  things  are  hungry." 

^*  Then  let  them  be  hungry  in  another  room," 
said  the  ii'ritated  scribe.  "They  shan't  cling 
round  my  pen,  and  paralyze  it  just  when  it  is 
going  to  make  all  our  fortunes  ;  but  you  women," 
snapped  Triplet  the  Just,  "  have  no  consideration 
for  people's  feelings.  Send  them  all  to  bed,  every 
man  jack  of  them  !  " 

Finding  the  conversation  taking  this  turn,  the 
brats  raised  a  unanimous  howl. 

Triplet  darted  a  fierce  glance  at  them.  "  Hun- 
gry, hungry !  "  cried  he  ;  "  is  that  a  proper  ex- 
pression to  use  before  a  father  who  is  sitting  down 
here  all  gayety  (scratching  wildly  with  his  pen) 
and  hilarity  (scratch)  to  write  a  com  —  com  —  " 
he  choked  a  moment,  then  in  a  very  difierent 
voice,  all  sadness  and  tenderness,  he  said, 
"  Where's  the  youngest  ?  where's  Lucy  ?  As  if 
I  didn't  know  you  are  hungry." 

Lucy  came  to  him  directly.  He  took  her  on 
his  knee,  pressed  her  gently  to  his  side,  and  wrote 
silently.     The  others  were  still. 


144  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Father/'  said  Lucy,  aged  five,  the  germ  of  a 
woman,  "  I  am  not  tho  veiy  hungry." 

"  And  I  am  not  hungry  at  all,"  said  bluff  Ly- 
simachus,  taking  his  sister's  cue  ;  then  going  upon 
his  own  tact  he  added,  "  I  had  a  great  piece  of 
bread  and  butter  yesterday !  " 

"  Wife,  they  will  drive  me  mad ! "  and  he 
dashed  at  the  paper. 

The  second  boy  explained  to  his  mother  sotto 
voce,  "  Mother,  he  made  us  hungry  out  of  his 
book." 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  book,"  said  Lucy ;  "  is  it  a 
cookery  book  ? " 

Triplet  roared.  "  Do  you  hear  that  ?  "  inquired 
he,  all  trace  of  ill  humor  gone.  "  Wife,"  he  re- 
sumed, after  a  gallant  scribble,  "  I  took  that  ser- 
mon I  wrote." 

"  And  beautiful  it  was,  James.  I'm  sure  it 
quite  cheered  me  up  with  thinking  that  we.  shall 
all  be  dead  before  so  very  long." 

"Well,  the  reverend  gentleman  would  not 
have  it.  He  said  it  was  too  hard  upon  sin. 
'  You  run  at  the  devil  Hke  a  mad  bull,'  said  he. 
'  Sell  it  in  Lambeth,  sir ;  here  calmness  and  de- 
cency are    before   every  thing,'  says    he.     '  My 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  145 

congregation  expect  to  go  to  heaven  down  liill. 
Perhaps  the  chaplain  of  Newgate  might  give  you 
a  crown  for  it/  said  he  ;  "  and  Triplet  dashed  vi- 
ciously at  the  paper.  "  Ah  !  "  sighed  he,  "  if  my 
fi'iend  Mrs.  Woffington  would  but  drop  these  stu- 
pid comedies  and  take  to  tragedy,  this  house 
would  soon  be  all  smiles." 

"  O  James  !  "  replied  Mrs.  Triplet,  almost  pee- 
vishly, "  how  can  you  expect  any  thing  but  fine 
words  from  that  woman  ?  You  won't  beheve 
what  all  the  world  says.  You  will  trust  to  your 
own  good  heart." 

"  I  haven't  a  good  heart,"  said  the  poor,  hon- 
est fellow.  "  I  spoke  like  a  brute  to  you  just 
now." 

"  Never  mind,  James,"  said  the  woman ;  "  1 
wonder  how  you  put  up  with  me  at  all,  a  sick, 
useless  creature.  I  often  wish  to  die,  for  your 
sake.  I  know  you  would  do  better.  I  am  sucn 
a  weight  round  your  neck." 

The  man  made  no  answer,  but  he  put  Lucy 
gently  down,  and  went  to  the  woman,  and  took 
her  forehead  to  his  bosom,  and  held  it  there ;  and 
after  a  while  returned  with  silent  energy  to  his 
comedy, 

13 


146  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Play  us  a  tune  on  the  fiddle,  father." 

"  Ay,  do,  husband.  That  helps  you  often  in 
your  writing." 

Lysimachus  brought  him  the  fiddle,  and  Trip- 
let essayed  a  merry  tune  ;  but  it  came  out  so  dole- 
ful, that  he  shook  his  head,  and  laid  the  in- 
strument down.  Music  must  be  in  the  heart, 
or  it  will  come  out  of  the  fingers  —  notes,  not 
music. 

/'No,"  said  he;  "let  us  be  serious,  and  finish 
this  comedy  slap  off.  Perhaps  it  hitches  because 
I  forgot  to  invoke  the  comic  muse.  She  must  be 
a  black-hearted  jade,  if  she  doesn't  come  with 
merry  notions  to  a  poor  devil,  starving  in  the 
midst  of  his  hungry  Httle  ones." 

''  We  are  past  help  from  heathen  goddesses," 
said  the  woman.  "  We  must  pray  to  Heaven  to 
look  down  upon  us  and  our  children." 

The  man  looked  up  with  a  very  bad  expression 
on  his  countenance. 

*'  You  forget,"  said  he,  sullenly,  "  our  street 
is  very  narrow,  and  the  opposite  houses  are  very 
high." 

''  James !  " 

"  How  can  Heaven  be   expected  to   see  what 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  147 

lionest  folk  endure  in  so  dark  a  liole  as  tliis  ?  '* 
cried  tlie  man,  fiercely. 

"  James,"  said  the  woman,  with  fear  and  sor- 
row, "  what  words  are  these  ?  " 

The  man  rose,  and  flung  his  pen  upon  the 
floor. 

"  Have  we  given  honesty  a  fair  trial  —  yes  or 
no  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  said  the  woman,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation  ;  "  not  till  we  die,  as  we  have  lived. 
Heaven  is  higher  than  the  sky.  Children,"  said 
she,  lest,  perchance,  her  husband's  words  should 
have  harmed  their  young  souls,  "  the  sky  is 
above  the  earth,  and  Heaven  is  higher  than  the 
sky  ;  and  Heaven  is  just." 

"I  suppose  it  is  so,"  said  the  man,  a  little 
cowed  by  her.  "  Every  body  says  so.  I  think 
so,  at  bottom,  myself;  but  I  can't  see  it.  I  want 
to  see  it,  but  I  can't !  "  cried  he,  fiercely.  *^  Have 
my  children  oflfended  Heaven  ?  They  will  starve 
—  they  will  die.  If  I  was  Heaven,  I'd  be  just, 
and  send  an  angel  to  take  these  children's  part. 
They  cried  to  me  for  bread  ;  I  had  no  bread,  so 
I  gave  them  hard  words.  The  moment  I  had 
done  that,  I  knew  it  was  all  over.     God  knows  it 


lis  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

took  a  long  wliile  to  break  my  heart ;  but  it  is 
broken  at  last ;  quite,  quite  broken,  broken 
broken  !  " 

And  the  poor  thing  laid  his  head  upon  the  ta- 
ble, and  sobbed  beyond  all  power  of  restraint. 
The  children  cried  round  liim,  scarce  knowing 
why  ;  and  Mrs.  Triplet  could  only  say,  "  Mj 
poor  husband!  "  and  prayed  and  wept  upon  the 
couch  where  she  lay. 

It  was  at  this  junctiu'e  that  a  lady,  who  had 
knocked  gently  and  unheard,  opened  the  door, 
and  with  a  hght  step  entered  the  apartment ;  but 
no  sooner  had  she  caught  sight  of  Triplet's  an- 
guish, than  saying  hastily,  "  Stay,  I  forgot  some- 
thing," she  made  as  hasty  an  exit. 

This  gave  Triplet  a  moment  to  recover  him- 
self;  and  Mrs.  Woffington,  whose  lynx  eye  had 
comprehended  all  at  a  glance,  and  who  had  deter- 
mined at  once  what  line  to  take,  came  flying  in 
again,  saying,  — 

"  Wasn't  somebody  inquiiing  for  an  angel  ? 
Here  I  am.  See,  Mr.  Triplet !  "  and  she  showed 
Mm  a  note,  wliich  said,  "  Madam,  you  are  an 
angel.  From  a  perfect  stranger,"  explained  she  ; 
"  so  it  must  be  true." 


PEG    WOFFINGTOX.  149 

"  Mrs.  Woffington,"  said  Mr.  Triplet  to  his 
wife. 

Mrs.  "VVoffington  planted  herself  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor,  and  with  a  comical  glance,  setting 
her  arms  akimbo,  uttered  a  shiill  wliistle. 

"  Now  you  will  see  another  angel  —  there  are 
two  sorts  of  them." 

Pompey  came  in  with  a  basket.  She  took  it 
fi.'om  him. 

"  Lucifer,  avaunt !  '*  cried  she,  in  a  terrible 
tone,  that  drove  him  to  the  wall ;  "  and  wait  out- 
side the  door,"  added  she,  conversationally. 

"  I  heard  you  were  ill,  ma'am,  and  I  have 
brought  you  some  physic  —  black  draughts  from 
Burgundy ; "  and  she  smiled.  And  recovered 
from  their  first  surprise,  young  and  old  began  to 
thaw  beneath  that  witching,  irresistible  smile. 
"  Mrs.  Triplet,  I  have  come  to  give  your  husband 
a  sitting  ;  will  you  allow  me  to  eat  my  little 
luncheon  with  you  ?  I  am  so  hungry  ! "  Then 
she  clapped  her  hands,  and  in  ran  Pompey.  She 
sent  him  for  a  pie  she  professed  to  have  fallen  in 
love  with  at  the  corner  of  the  street. 

"Mother,"  said  Alcibiades,  "will  the  lady 
give  me  a  bit  of  her  pie  ? " 


150  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Hu^i !  you  rude  boy  !  "  cried  th.e  mother. 

"  She  is  not  much  of  a  lady  if  she  does  not/ 
cried  Mrs.  Woffington.  "Now,  children,  first 
let  us  look  at  —  ahem  —  a  comedy.  Nineteen 
dramatis  personcR !  ^AHiat  do  you  say,  children, 
shall  we  cut  out  seven,  or  nine  ?  that  is  the  ques- 
tion. You  can't  bring  your  armies  into  om 
drawing  rooms,  Mr.  Dagger-and-bowl.  Are  you 
the  Marlborough  of  comedy  ?  Can  you  marshal 
battalions  on  a  Tui'key  carpet,  and  make  gentle- 
folks witty  in  platoons  ?  What  is  this  in  the 
first  act  ?  A  duel,  and  both  wounded  !  You 
butcher ! " 

"  They  are  not  to  die,  ma'am  !  "  cried  Triplet, 
deprecatingly  ;  "  upon  my  honor,"  said  he,  sol- 
emnly, spreading  his  hands  on  his  bosom. 

"  Do  you  think  I'll  trust  their  lives  with  you  ? 
No  !  Give  me  a  pen  :  tiiis  is  the  way  we  run 
people  tlu'ough  the  body."  Then  she  wrote 
("business."  Araminta  looks  out  of  the  garret 
window.  Combatants  drop  theii*  swords,  put 
theii'  hands  to  their  hearts,  and  stagger  off  O.  P. 
and  P.  S.)  "  Now,  cliildren,  who  helps  me  to 
lay  the  cloth  ?  " 

"  I ! " 


PEG    WOFFIXGTON.  151 

"  And  I !  "  (The  cliildren  run  to  the  cup- 
board.) 

Mrs.  Triplet,  (half  rising.)  —  "  Madam,  I  — 
can't  think  of  allowing  you." 

Mrs.  Woffington  replied,  "  Sit  down,  madam, 
or  I  must  use  brute  force.  If  you  are  ill,  be  ill 
—  till  I  make  you  well.  Twelve  plates,  quick ! 
Twenty-four  knives,  quicker  !  Forty-eight  forks, 
quickest !  "  She  met  the  childi*en  with  the  cloth 
and  laid  it ;  then  she  met  them  again  and  laid 
knives  and  forks,  all  at  full  gallop,  which  mightily 
excited  the  bairns.  Pompey  came  in  with  the 
pie;  Mrs.  "Woffington  took  it  and  set  it  before 
Triplet. 

Mrs.  Woffington.  —  "  Your  coat,  Mr.  Trip- 
let, if  you  please." 

Mr.  Triplet.  —  "  My  coat,  madam  !  " 

Mrs.  Woffington.  —  "  Yes,  off  with  it  — 
there's  a  hole  in  it  —  and  carve.  Then  she 
whipped  to  the  other  end  of  the  table  and 
stitched  Hke  wildfire.  "  Be  pleased  to  cast  your 
eyes  on  that,  Mrs.  Triplet.  Pass  it  to  the  lady, 
young  gentleman.  Fire  away,  Mr.  Triplet ;  never 
mind  us  women.  Wofiington's  housewife,  ma'am, 
fearful  to  the  eye,  only  it  holds  every  thing  in  the 


152  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

world,  and  there  is  a  small  space  for  every  thing 
else  —  to  be  returned  by  the  bearer.  Thank  you 
sir."  (Stitches  away  like  lightning  at  the  coat.) 
"  Eat  away,  childi-en  !  now  is  your  time  :  when 
once  I  begin,  the  pie  will  soon  end ;  I  do  every 
thing  so  quick." 

RoxALANA.  — "  The  lady  sews  quicker  than 
you,  mother;" 

WoFFiNGTON.  —  "  Bless  the  child,  don't  come 
so  near  my  sword  arm  ;  the  needle  will  go  into 
your  eye,  and  out  at  the  back  of  your  head." 

This  nonsense  made  the  children  giggle. 

"  The  needle  will  be  lost  —  the  child  no  more 

—  enter  undertaker  —  house  tui'ned  topsy-turvy 

—  father  shows  Woffington  to  the  door  —  oiF  she 
goes  with  a  face  as  long  and  dismal  as  some  peo- 
ple's comedies  —  no  names  —  crying  fine  cha-ney 
oran-ges." 

The  children,  all  but  Lucy,  screeched  with 
laughter. 

Lucy  said,  gravely,  — 

"  Mother,  the  lady  is  very  ftmny  !  " 

"  You  will  be  as  fanny,  when  you  are  as  well 
paid  for  it." 

This  just    hit  poor  Trip's  notion  of  humor  ; 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  153 

and  he  began  to  clioke,  with  his  mouth  full  of 
pie. 

"  James,  take  cai'e,"  said  Mrs.  Triplet,  sad  and 
solemn. 

James  looked  up. 

"  My  wife  is  a  good  woman,  madam,"  said 
he,   "but  deficient  in.  an  important  particular." 

«  O  James  !  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear.  I  regret  to  say  you  have  no 
sense  of  humor ;  nummore  than  a  cat,  Jane." 

"  What !  because  the  poor  thing  can't  laugh 
at  your  comedy  ?  " 

"  No,  ma'am ;  but  she  laughs  at  nothing." 

"Try  her  with  one  of  your  tragedies,  my 
lad?" 

'^  I  am  sure,  James,"  said  the  poor,  good,  lack- 
adaisical woman,  "  if  I  don't  laugh,  it  is  not  for 
want  of  the  will.  I  used  to  be  a  very  hearty 
laugher,"  whined  she ;  "  but  I  haven't  laughed 
this  two  years." 

"O,  indeed!"  said  the  Woffington.  "Then 
the  next  two  years  you  shall  do  nothing  else." 

"  Ah,  madam !  "  said  Triplet,  "  that  passes  the 
art  even  of  the  great  comedian." 

"  Does  it  ?  "  said  the  actress,  coolly. 


154  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

Lucy.  —  '^  She  is  not  a  comedy  lady.  You 
don't  ever  cry,  pretty  lady  ? " 

"WoFFiNGTON,  (ironically.)  —  "  0,  of  course  not." 

Lucy,  (confidentially.)  —  "  Comedy  is  crying. 
Father  cried  all  the  time  he  was  writing  his 
one." 

Triplet  turned  red  as  fire. 

"  Hold  your  tongue/'  said  he  ;  '^  I  was  burst 
ing  with  merriment.     Wife,  our  children  talk  too 
much  ;  they  put  their  noses  into  every  thing,  and 
criticize  their  own  father." 

^^  Unnatural  offspring  !  "  laughed  the  visitor. 

''And  when  they  take  up  a  notion,  Socrates 
couldn't  convince  them  to  the  contrary.  For  in- 
stance, madam,  all  this  morning  they  thought  fit 
to  assume  that  they  were  starving." 

"  So  we  were,"  said  Lysimachus,  "  until  the 
angel  came,  and  the  devil  went  for  the  pie." 

''  There  —  there  —  there  !  Now,  you  mark  my 
words  ;  we  shall  never  get  that  idea  out  of  their 
heads " 

"  Until,"  said  Mrs.  "Woffington,  lumping  a 
huge  cut  of  pie  into  Roxalana's  plate,  "  we  put 
a  very  different  idea  into  their  stomachs."  This 
and  the  look   she   cast   on  Mrs.    Triplet,   fairly 


PEG    WOPFINGTON.  155 

caught  that  good,  though  sombre  personage.  She 
giggled,  put  her  hand  to  her  face,  and  said, 
'*  I'm  sure  I  ask  your  pardon,  ma'am." 

It  was  no  use  ;  the  comedian  had  determined 

they  should  all  laugh,  and  they  were  made  to 

laugh.     Then  she  rose,  and  showed  them  how  to 

drink  healths  a  la  Frangaise  ;  and  keen  were  her 

little   admirers,   to   touch  her  glass  with  theirs. 

And  the  pure  wine  she  had  brought  did  Mrs. 

Triplet  much  good,  too ;  though  not  so  much  as 

the  music  and   sunshine  of  her  face  and  voice. 

Then,  when  their   stomachs   were  fall  of  good 

food,  and  the  soul  of  the  grape  tingled  in  their 

veins,  and  their   souls   glowed  under  her  great 

magnetic  power,  she  suddenly  seized  the  fiddle, 

and  showed  them  another  of  her  enchantments. 

She  put  it  on  her  knee,  and  played  a  tune  that 

would  have  made  gout,  cohc,  and  phthisic  dance 

upon  their  last  legs.     She  played  to  the  eye  as 

well  as  to  the  ear,   with   such  a  smart   gesture 

of  the  bow,  and  such  a  radiance  of  face  as  she 

looked  at  them,  that  whether  the  music  came  out 

of  her  wooden  shell,  or  her  horsehair  wand,  or 

her  bright  self,  seemed  doubtful.     They  pranced 

on  their  chairs  ;  they  could  not  keep  still.     She 


156  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

jumped  up  ;  so  did  tliey.      Slie  gave  a  wild  Irisli 
liorroo.     She  put  the  fiddle  in  Triplet's  hand. 

'^  The  wind  that  shakes  the  barley,  ye  divil ! ' 
cried  she. 

Triplet  went  hors  de  lui  ;'h.e  played  like  Paga- 
nini,  or  an  intoxicated  demon.  Woffington  cov- 
ered the  buckle  in  gallant  style  ;  she  danced,  the 
childi-en  danced.  Triplet  fiddled  and  danced, 
and  flung  his  limbs  in  wild  dislocation;  the 
wine  glasses  danced ;  and  last,  Mrs.  Triplet  was 
observed  to  be  bobbing  about  on  her  sofa,  in  a 
monstrous  absurd  way,  droning  out  the  tune,  and 
playing  her  hands  with  mild  enjoyment,  all  to 
herself.  Woffington  pointed  out  this  pantomimic 
soliloquy  to  the  two  boys,  with  a  glance  full  of 
fiery  meaning.  This  was  enough  :  with  a  fiend- 
ish yell,  they  fell  upon  her,  and  tore  her,  shriek- 
ing, oflT  the  sofa.  And  lo !  when  she  was  once 
launched,  she  danced  up  to  her  husband,  and  set 
to  him  with  a  meek  deliberation,  that  was  as 
funny  as  any  part  of  the  scene.  So  then  the 
mover  of  all  this  sHpped  on  one  side,  and  let  the 
stone  of  merriment  roll  —  and  roll  it  did ;  there 
was  no  swimming,  sprawHng,  or  irrelevant  fi-isk- 
ing  ;  their  feet  struck  the  ground  for  every  note 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  157 

at 

of  the  fiddle,  pat  as  its  echo,  then'  faces  shone, 
their  hearts  leaped,  and  their  poor  frozen  natm-es 
came  out,  and  warmed  themselves  at  the  glowing 
melody;  a  great  sunbeam  had  come  into  their 
abode,  and  these  human  motes  danced  in  it.  The 
elder  ones  recovered  their  gravity  first ;  they  sat 
down  breathless,  and  put  their  hands  to  their 
hearts ;  they  looked  at  one  another,  and  then  at 
the  goddess  who  had  revived  them.  Their  first 
feeling  was  wonder ;  were  they  the  same,  who, 
ten  minutes  ago,  were  weeping  together  ?  Yes  ! 
ten  minutes  ago  they  were  rayless,  joyless,  hope- 
less. Now  the  sun  was  in  theu'  hearts,  and  sorrow 
and  sighing  were  fled,  as  fogs  disperse  before  the 
god  of  day.  It  was  magical;  could  a  mortal 
play  upon  the  soul  of  man,  woman,  and  child 
like  this  ?  Happy  Woffington  !  and  suppose  this 
was  moi'e  than  half  acting,  but  such  acting  as 
Triplet  never  dreamed  of ;  and  to  tell  the  honest, 
simple  truth,  I  myself  should  not  have  suspected 
it ;  but  children  are  sharper  than  one  would  think, 
and  Alcibiades  Triplet  told,  in  after  years,  that 
when  they  were  all  dancing  except  the  lady,  he 
caught  sight  of  her  face  —  and  it  was  quite, 
quite   grave,  and  even  sad  ;  but  as  often  as  she 


158  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

saw  him  look  at  her,  she  smiled  at  him  so  gayly 
he  couldn't  believe  it  was  the  same  face. 

If  it  was  art,  glory  be  to  such  art  so  worthily 
applied !  and  honor  to  such  creatures  as  this, 
that  come  like  sunshine  into  poor  men's  houses, 
and  tune  drooping  hearts  to  daylight  and  hope  ! 

The  wonder  of  these  worthy  people  soon 
changed  to  gratitude.  Mrs.  Woffington  stopped 
their  mouths  at  once. 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  she  ;  "  if  you  really  love  me, 
no  scenes  ;  I  hate  them.  Tell  these  brats  to  kiss 
me,  and  let  me  go.  I  must  sit  for  my  picture 
after  dinner ;  it  is  a  long  way  to  Bloomsbury 
Square." 

The  children  needed  no  bidding  ;  they  clus- 
tered round  her,  and  pom*ed  out  their  innocent 
hearts  as  children  only  do. 

"  I  shall  pray  for  you  after  father  and  mother," 
said  one. 

"  I  shall  pray  for  you  after  daily  bread,"  said 
Lucy,  "  because  we  were  tho  hungry  till  you 
came  ! " . 

"  My  poor  children !  "  cried  Woffington  ;  and 
hard  to  grown-up  actors,  as  she  called  us,  but 
sensitive    to   children,  she   fairlv   melted   as   she 


PEG    WOT'FINGTON.  159 

embraced  them.  It  was  at  tliis  precise  juncture 
that  tlie  door  was  unceremoniously  opened,  and 
the  two  gentlemen  bui'st  upon  the  scene ! 

My  reader  now  guesses  whom  Sir  Charles 
Pomander  surprised  more  than  he  did  Mrs.  "Wof- 
fington.  He  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  com- 
prehend what  she  was  doing,  and  what  was  her 
ulterior  object.  The  nil  admirari  of  the  fine 
gentleman  deserted  him,  and  he  gazed  open- 
mouthed,  like  the  veriest  chaw-bacon. 

The  actress,  unable  to  extricate  herself  in  a 
moment  from  the  children,  stood  there  like 
Charity,  in  New  College  Chapel,  whilst  the 
mother  kissed  her  hand,  and  the  father  quietly 
dropped  tears,  like  some  leaden  water-god  in  the 
middle  of  a  fountain. 

Vane  turned  hot  and  cold  by  turns,  with  joy 
and  shame.  Pomander's  genius  came  to  the  aid 
of  their  embarrassment. 

"  Follow  my  lead,"  whispered  he.  "  What ! 
Mrs.  Woffington  here ! "  cried  he ;  then  he  ad- 
vanced business-hke  to  Triplet.  "  We  are  aware, 
sir,  of  your  various  talents,  and  are  come  to 
make  a  demand  on  them.  I,  sir,  am  the  unfor- 
tunate possessor  of  frescoes ;  time  has  impaired 


160  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

their  indelicacy ;  no  man  can  restore  it  as  you 


can." 


"  Augh !     Sir  !  sir  !  "  said  the  gratified  goose. 

"  My  Cupid's  bows  are  walking-sticks,  and  m^ 
Venus's  noses  are  snubbed.  You  must  set  all 
that  straight,  on  your  own  terms,  Mv.  Triplet." 

"  In  a  single  morning  all  shall  bloom  again, 
sir  !  Whom  would  you  wish  them  to  resemble 
in  feature  ?  I  have  lately  been  praised  for  my 
skill  in  portraitirre."  (Glancing  at  Mrs.  Wof- 
fington.) 

"  O,"  said  Pomander,  carelessly,  "  you  need 
not  go  far  for  Venuses  and  Cupids,  I  suppose  ?  " 

**  I  'see,  sir  :  my  wife  and  childi'en.  Thank 
you,  sir  ;  thank  you." 

Pomander  stared ;  Mrs.  Woffington  laughed. 

N^ow  it  was  Vane's  turn. 

*^  Let  me  have  a  copy  of  verses  from  your  pen. 
I  shall  have  five  pounds  at  your  disposal  for 
them." 

"  The  world  has  found  me  out,"  thought  Trip- 
let, blinded  by  his  vanity.     "  The  subject,  sir  ?  " 

"  No  matter,"  said  Vane ;  "  no  matter." 

"  O,  of  course,  it  does  not  matter  to  me," 
said  Triplet,  with  some  hauteur,  and  assuming 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  161 

poetic  omnipotence.  "  Only,  when  one  knows 
the  subject,  one  can  sometimes  make  the  verses 
apply  better." 

"  Write  then,  since  you  are  so  confident,  upon 
Mrs.  Woffington." 

*'  Ah  !  that  is  a  subject !  They  shall  be  ready 
in  an  hour ! "  cried  Trip,  in  whose  imagination 
Parnassus  was  a  raised  counter.  He  had  in  a 
teacup  some  lines  on  Venus  and  Mars,  which  he 
could  not  but  feel  would  fit  Thalia  and  Croesus, 
or  Genius  and  Envy,  equally  well.  "  In  one 
hour,  sir,"  said  Triplet,  "  the  article  shall  be  exe- 
cuted, and  delivered  at  your  house." 

Mrs.  "Woffington  called  Vane  to  her,  with  an 
engaging  smile.  A  month  ago,  he  would  have 
hoped  she  would  not  have  penetrated  him  and 
Sir  Charles ;  but  he  knew  her  better  now.  He 
came  trembling. 

"  Look  me  in  the  face,  Mr.  Vane,"  said  she 
gently,  but  firmly. 

"  I  cannot !  "  said  he.  "  How  can  I  ever  look 
you  in  the  face  again  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  disarm  me  !  But  I  must  strike  you, 
or  this  will  never  end.  Did  I  not  promise  that 
when  you  had  earned  my  esteem,  I  would  tell 
14 


162  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

you  —  what  no  mortal  knows  —  Ernest,  my  whole 
story"?  I  delay  the  confession  :  it  will  cost  me 
so  many  blushes  —  so  many  tears  !  And  yet  I 
hope,  if  you  knew  all,  you  would  pity  and  for- 
give me.  Meantime,  did  I  ever  tell  you  a  false- 
hood?" 

«  0,  no  !  " 

"  Why  doubt  me  then,  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
hold  all  your  sex  cheap,  but  you  ?  Why  suspect 
me  of  Heaven  knows  what,  at  the  dictation  of  a 
heartless,  brainless  fop  —  on  the  word  of  a  known 
liar,  like  the  world  ?  " 

Black  lightning  flashed  from  her  glorious  eyes, 
as  she  administered  this  royal  rebuke.  Vane 
felt  what  a  poor  creature  he  was,  and  his  face 
showed  such  burning  shame  and  contrition,  that 
he  obtained  his  pardon  without  speaking. 

"  There,"  said  she,  kindly,  "  do  not  let  us  tor- 
ment one  another.  I  forgive  you.  Let  me  make 
you  happy,  Ernest.  Is  that  a  great  favor  to  ask  ? 
I  can  make  you  happier  than  youi'  brightest 
dream  of  happiness,  if  you  will  let  yourself  be 
happy."  ^ 

They  rejoined  the  others  ;  but  Vane  turned  his 
back  on  Pomander,  and  would  not  look  at  him. 


PEG   WOrriNGTON.  168 

"  Sir  Charles/'  said  Mrs.  Woffington,  gayly  ; 
for  slie  scorned  to  admit  tlie  fine  gentleman  to  the 
rank  of  a  permanent  enemy,  "  you  will  be  of  our 
party,  I  trust,  at  dinner  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  madam  ;  I  fear  I  cannot  give  my- 
self that  pleasui'e  to-day."  Sir  Charles  did  not 
choose  to  swell  the  triumph.  "  Mr.  Vane,  good 
day  !  "  said  he,  rather  dryly.  "  Mr.  Triplet  — 
madam  —  your  most  obedient !  "  and,  self-pos- 
sessed at  top,  but  at  bottom  crestfallen,  he  bowed 
himself  away. 

Sir  Charles,  however,  on  descending  the  staii 
and  gaining  the  street,  caught  sight  of  a  horse- 
man, riding  uncertainly  about,  and  making  his 
horse  curvet  to  attract  attention. 

He  soon  recognized  one  of  his  own  horses,  and 
upon  it  the  servant  he  had  left  behind  to  dog  that 
poor  innocent  country  lady.  The  servant  sprang 
off  his  horse  and  touched  his  hat.  He  informed 
his  master  that  he  had  kept  with  the  carriage 
until  ten  o'clock  this  morning,  when  he  had  rid- 
den away  from  it  at  Barnet,  having  duly  pumped 
the  servants  as  opportunity  offered. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  cried  Sir  Charles. 

"  Wife  of  a  Cheshire  squire.  Sir  Charles,"  was 
the  reply. 


164  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

''  ffis  name  ?     AVhither  goes  she  in  town  ? 

"  Her  name  is  Mrs.  Vane^  Sii*  Charles.  She 
is  going  to  her  husband." 

"  Curious  !  "  cried  Sir  Charles.  "  I  wish  she 
had  no  husband.  No  !  I  wish  she  came  from 
Shi'opshii'e  ;  "  and  he  chuckled  at  the  notion. 

*'If  you  please.  Sir  Charles/'  said  the  man, 
"  is  not  Willoughby  in  Cheshii'e  ?  " 

"  No,"  cried  his  master ;  "  it  is  in  Shi'opshii-e. 
What !  eh !  Five  guineas  for  you  if  that  lady 
comes  from  Willoughby  in  Shi'opsliu'e." 

"  That  is  where  she  comes  from  then.  Sir 
Charles,  and  she  is  going  to  Bloomsbury  Square." 

"  How  long  have  they  been  married  ? " 

"  Not  more  than  twelve  months.  Sir  Charles." 

Pomander  gave  the  man  ten  guineas  instead  of 
five  on  the  spot. 

Keader,  it  was  too  true  !  Mr.  Vane  —  the 
good,  the  decent,  the  chuixh-goer  —  Mr.  Vane, 
whom  Mrs.  Woffington  had  selected  to  improve 
her  morals  —  Mr.  Vane  was  a  mariied  man  ! 


CHAPTER    IX. 

As  soon  as  Pomander  had  drawn  his  breath 
and  realized  this  discovery,  he  darted  up  stairs, 
and  with  all  the  demure  calmness  he  could  as- 
sume, told  Mr.  Vane,  whom  he  met  descending, 
that  he  was  happy  to  find  his  engagements  per- 
mitted him  to  join  the ,  party  in  Bloomsbury 
Square.  He  then  flung  liimself  upon  his  ser- 
vant's horse. 

Like  lago,  he  saw  the  indistinct  outline  of  a 
glorious  and  a  most  mahcious  plot ;  it  lay  crude  in 
his  head  and  heart  at  present ;  thus  much  he  saw 
clearly,  that  if  he  could  time  Mrs.  Vane's  arrival 
so  that  she  should  pounce  upon  the  Woffington 
at  her  husband's  table,  he  might  be  present  at 
and  enjoy  the  public  discomfiture  of  a  man  and 
woman  who  had  wounded  his  vanity.  Bidding 
his  servant  make  the  best  of  his  way  to  Blooms- 
bury  Square,  Su"  Charles  galloped  in  that  dii*ec- 
tion  himself,  intending  first  to  inquire  whether 
Mrs.  Vane  was   arrived,  and  if  not,  to   ride  to- 

165 


166  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

wards  Islington  and  meet  her.  His  plan  was 
frustrated  by  an  accident  ;  galloping  round  a 
corner,  his  horse  did  not  change  his  leg  cleverly, 
and  the  pavement  being  also  loose,  sHpped  and 
fell  on  his  side,  throwing  his  rider  upon  the  trot- 
toir.  The  horse  got  up  and  trembled  violently, 
but  was  unhurt.  The  rider  lay  motionless,  ex- 
cept that  his  legs  quivered  on  the  pavement. 
They  took  him  up  and  conveyed  him  into  a 
druggist's  shop,  the  master  of  which  practised 
chijriu:gery.  He  had  to  be  sent  for ;  and  before 
he  could  be  found.  Sir  Charles  recovered  his 
reason  —  so  much  so  that  when  the  chirui'geon 
approached  with  his  fleam  to  bleed  him,  accord- 
ing to  the  practice  of  the  day,  the  patient  di'ew 
his  sword,  and  assiu'ed  the  other  he  would  let 
out  every  drop  of  blood  in  his  body  if  he  touched 
him. 

He  of  the  shorter  but  more  lethal  weapon 
hastily  retreated.  Sir  Charles  flung  a  guinea  on 
the  counter,  and  mounting  his  horse,  rode  him 
ofi"  rather  faster  than  before  this  accident. 

There  was  a  dead  silence  ! 

"  I  believe  that  gentleman  to  be  the  devil ! " 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  167 

said  a  thoughtful  bystander.  The  crowd  (it  was 
a  century  ago)  assented,  nem.  con. 

Sir  Charles,  arrived  in  Bloomsbury  Square, 
found  that  the  whole  party  was  assembled.  He 
therefore  ordered  his  servant  to  parade  before  the 
door,  and  if  he  saw  Mrs.  Vane's  carriage  enter 
the  square,  to  let  him  know,  if  possible,  before 
she  should  reach  the  house.  On  entering  he 
learned  that  Mr.  Vane  and  his  guests  were  in  the 
garden,  (a  very  fine  one,)  and  joined  them  there. 

Mrs.  Vane  demands  another  chapter,  in  which 
I  will  tell  the  reader  who  she  was,  and  what  ex- 
cuse her  husband  had  for  his  liaison  with  Marga- 
ret Wofiington. 


CHAPTER    X. 

Mabel  Chester  was  the  beauty  and  toast  of 
South  Shropshii'e.  She  had  refused  the  hand  of 
half  the  country  squii'es  in  a  circle  of  some  dozen 
miles,  till  at  last  Mr.  Vane  became  her  suitor. 
Besides  a  handsome  face  and  person,  Mr.  Vane 
had  accompHshments  his  rivals  did  not  possess. 
He  read  poetry  to  her  on  mossy  banks,  an  hour 
before  sunset,  and  awakened  sensibiHties,  which 
her  other  suitors  shocked,  and  they  them. 

The  lovely  Mabel  had  a  taste  for  beautiful 
things,  without  any  excess  of  that  severe  quality 
called  judgment. 

I  will  explain.     If  you  or  I,  reader,  had  read 

to  her  in  the  afternoon  amidst  the  smell  of  roses 

and  eglantine,  the  chirp  of  the  mavis,  the  hum 

of  bees,    the    twinkling   of  buttei^flies,   and    the 

tinkle  of  distant  sheep,  something  that  combined 

all  these   sights,  and  sounds,   and  smells  —  say 

Milton's  musical  picture  of  Eden,  p.  l.,  Hb.  3, 

and  after  that  "  Triplet  on  Kew,"  she  would  have 

168 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  169 

instantly  pronounced  in  favor  of  "  Eden ; "  but 
if  we  had  read  her  "  Milton,"  and  Mr.  Vane  had 
read  her  "  Triplet,"  she  would  have  as  unhesitat- 
ingly preferred  "  Kew  "  to  "  Paradise." 

She  was  a  true  daughter  of  Eve  ;  the  lady 
who,  when  an  angel  was  telling  her  and  her  hus- 
band the  truths  of  heaven  in  heaven's  own  music, 
slipped  away  into  the  kitchen,  because  she  pre- 
ferred hearing  the  story  at  second  hand,  encum- 
bered with  digressions,  and  in  mortal  but  marital 
accents. 

When  her  mother,  who  guarded  Mabel  like  a 
dragon,  told  her  Mr.  Vane  was  not  rich  enough, 
and  she  really  must  not  give  him  so  many  oppor- 
tunities, Mabel  cried  and  embraced  the  di'agon, 
and  said,  "  O  mother  ! "  The  di'agon,  finding 
her  ferocity  dissolving,  tried  to  shake  her  off,  but 
the  goose  would  cry  and  embrace  the  dragon  till 
it  melted. 

By  and  by  Mr.  Vane's  uncle  died  suddenly, 
and  left  him  the  great  Stoken  Church  estate,  and 
a  trunk  full  of  Jacobuses  and  Queen  Anne's 
guineas  —  his  own  hoard  and  his  father's  —  then 
the  dragon  spake  comfortably,  and  said,  — 

"  My  child,  he  is  now  the  richest  man  in 
15 


ITO  TEG    WOFFINGTON. 

Skropsliii'e.  He  will  not  think  of  you  now ;  so 
steel  your  heart." 

Then  Mabel,  contrary  to  all  expectations,  did 
not  cry ;  but  with  flushing  cheek,  pledged  her 
life  upon  Ernest's  love  and  honor.  And  Ernest, 
as  soon  as  the  funeral,  &c.,  left  him  free,  galloped 
to  Mabel,  to  talk  of  our  good  fortune.  The 
dragon  had  done  him  injustice  :  that  was  not  his 
weak  point.  So  they  were  married !  and  they 
were  very,  very  happy.  But  one  month  after, 
the  dragon  died,  and  that  was  their  fii-st  grief; 
but  they  bore  it  together. 

And  Vane  was  not  like  the  other  Shropshire 
squires.  His  idea  of  pleasui'e  was  something  his 
wife  could  share.  He  still  rode,  walked,  and  sat 
with  her,  and  read  to  her,  and  composed  songs 
for  her,  and  about  her,  which  she  played  and 
sang  prettily  enough,  in  her  quiet,  lady-like  way, 
and  in  a  voice  of  honey  dropping  from  the  comb. 
Then  she  kept  a  keen  eye  upon  him  ;  and  when 
she  discovered  what  dishes  he  liked,  she  superin- 
tended those  herself;  and  observing  that  he  never 
failed  to  eat  of  a  certain  lemon  pudding  the  di'ag- 
on  had  originated,  she  always  made  this  pudding 
herself,  and  she  never  told  her  husband  she 
made  it. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  ITl 

The  first  seven  montlis  of  their  marriage  were 
more  like  bkie  sky  than  brown  earth ;  and  if  any- 
one had  told  Mabel  that  her  husband  was  a  mor- 
tal, and  not  an  angel  sent  to  her,  that  her  days 
and  nights  might  be  unmixed,  uninterrupted 
heaven,  she  could  hardly  have  realized  the  in- 
formation. 

When  a  vexatious  litigant  began  to  contest  the 
will  by  which  Mr.  Vane  was  Lord  of  Stoken 
Church,  and  Mr.  Vane  went  up  to  London  to 
concert  the  proper  means  of  defeating  this  attack, 
Mrs.  Vane  would  gladly  have  compounded  by 
giving  the  man  two  or  three  thousand  acres,  or 
the  whole  estate,  if  he  wouldn't  take,  less,  not  to 
rob  her  of  her  husband  for  a  month ;  but  she  was 
docile  as  she  was  amorous  ;  so  she  cried  (out  of 
sight)  a  week,  and  let  her  darhng  go,  with  every 
misgiving  a  loving  heart  could  have ;  but  one ! 
and  that  one,  her  own  heart  told  her,  was  im- 
possible. 

The  month  rolled  away ;  no  symptom  of  a  re- 
turn. For  this  Mr.  Vane  was  not,  in  fact,  to 
blame  ;  but,  towards  the  end  of  the  next  month, 
business  became  a  convenient  excuse.  When 
thi-ee   months    had   passed,   Mrs.   Vane   became 


172  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

unhappy.  Slie  thouglit  lie  too  must  feel  the 
separation.  She  offered  to  come  to  him.  He 
answered  uncandidly.  He  urged  the  length,  the 
fatigue  of  the  joui'ney.  She  was  silenced ;  but 
some  time  later,  she  began  to  take  a  new  view  of 
his  objections.  "  He  is  so  self-denying,"  said 
she.  "  Dear  Ernest,  he  longs  for  me ;  but  he 
thinks  it  selfish  to  let  me  travel  so  far  alone  to 
see  him." 

Full  of  this  idea,  she  yielded  to  her  love.  She 
made  her  preparations,  and  wrote  to  him  that  if 
he  did  not  forbid  her  peremptorily,  he  must  ex- 
pect to  see  her  at  his  breakfast  table  in  a  very 
few  days. 

Mr.  Vane  concluded  this  was  a  jest,  and  did 
not  answer  this  letter  at  all. 

Mrs.   Vane   started.      She    travelled  with   all 

speed  ;  but  coming  to  a  halt  at ,  she  wrote 

to  her  husband  that  she  counted  on  being  with 
liim  at  four  of  the  clock  on  Thiu'sday. 

This  letter  preceded  her  arrival  "by  a  few  houi's. 
It  was  put  into  his  hand  at  the  same  time  with  a 
note  from  Mrs.  Woffington,  telling  him  she 
should  be  at  a  rehearsal  at  Covent  Garden. 
Thinking  his  wife's  letter  would  keep,  he  threw 


PEG    WOFFINGTON. 


1<^  I 
i  < 


it  on  one  side  into  a  sort  of  a  tray ;  and  after  a 
hurried  breakfast,  went  out  of  liis  house  to  the 
theatre.  He  returned,  as  we  are  aware,  with 
Mrs.  Woffington  ;  and  also,  at  her  request,  with 
Mr.  Gibber,  for  whom  they  called  on  their  way. 
He  had  forgotten  his  wife's  letter,  and  was  en- 
tirely occupied  with  liis  guests. 

Sir  Charles  Pomander  joined  them,  and  found 
Mr.  Colander,  the  head  domestic  of  the  London 
estabhshment,  cutting  with  a  pair  of  scissors  ev- 
ery flower  Mrs.  Woffington  fancied  —  that  lady 
having  a  passion  for  flowers. 

Colander,  during  his  temporary  absence  from 
the  interior,  had  appointed  James  Burdock  to 
keep  the  house,  and  receive  the  two  remaining 
guests,  should  they  arrive. 

This  James  Bui'dock  was  a  faithful  old  country 
servant,  who  had  come  up  with  Mr.  Vane,  but 
left  his  heart  at  Willoughby.  James  Burdock 
had  for  some  time  been  ruminating,  and  his  con- 
clusion was,  that  his  mistress.  Miss  Mabel,  (as 
by  force  of  habit  he  called  her,)  was  not  treated 
as  she  deserved. 

Burdock  had  been  imported  into  Mr.  Vane's 
family  by  Mabel.     He  had   carried  her  in  his 


174  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

arms  when  slie  was  a  child  ;  he  had  held  her 
upon  a  donkey  when  she  was  a  little  girl ;  and 
when  she  became  a  woman,  it  was  he  who  taught 
her  to  stand  close  to  her  horse,  and  give  him  her 
foot,  and  spring  while  he  lifted  her  steadily  but 
strongly  into  her  saddle  ;  and  when  there  it  was 
he  who  had  instructed  her  that  a  horse  was  not 
a  machine,  that  galloping  tu'es  it  in  time,  and  that 
galloping  it  on  the  hard  road  hammers  it  to  pieces. 
"  I  taught  the  girl,"  thought  James  within  him- 
self. 

This  honest,  silver-haired  old  fellow  seemed  so 
ridiculous  to  Colander,  the  smooth,  supercilious 
Londoner,  that  he  deigned  sometimes  to  converse 
with  James,  in  order  to  quiz  liim.  This  very 
morning  they  had  had  a  conversation. 

"  Poor  Miss  Mabel !  dear  heart.  A  twelve- 
month married,  and  nigh  six  months  of  it  a  wid- 
ow, or  next  door." 

*'  We  write  to  her,  James,  and  entertain  her 
rephes,  which  are  at  considerable  length." 

"  Ay,  but  we  don't  read  'em ! "  said  James, 
with  an  uneasy  glance  at  the  tray. 

"  Invariably,  at  our  leisure  ;  meantime  we 
make  oui'selves  happy  amongst  the  wits  and  the 
sirens." 


PEG   WOFFINGTON.  175 

*'  And  she  do  make  others  happy  among  the 
poor  and  the  ailing." 

"  Which  shows,"  said  Colander,  supercilious- 
ly, "  the  difference  of  tastes." 

Burdock,  whose  eye  had  never  been  off  his 
mistress's  handwriting,  at  last  took  it  up  and 
said,  "  Master  Colander,  da,  if  ye  please,  sir,  take 
this  into  master's  dressing  room,  do  now." 

Colander  looked  down  on  the  missive  with  di- 
lating eye.  "  Not  a  bill,  James  Burdock,"  said 
he,  reproachfully. 

"  A  bill !  bless  ye,  no.     A  letter  from  missus." 

No ;  the  dog  would  not  take  it  in  to  his  mas- 
ter, and  poor  James,  with  a  sigh,  replaced  it  in 
the  tray. 

This  James  Burdock,  then,  was  left  in  charge 
of  the  hall  by  Colander,  and  it  so  happened  that 
the  change  was  hardly  effected  before  a  hurried 
knocking  came  to  the  street  door. 

"  Ay,  ay  !  "  grumbled  Bui-dock,  "  I  thought  it 
would  not  be  long.  London  for  knocking  and 
ringing  all  day,  and  ringing  and  knocking  all 
night."  He  opened  the  door  reluctantly  and  sus- 
piciously, and  in  darted  a  lady,  whose  features 
were  concealed  by  a  hood.     She  ghded  across  the 


176  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

hall,  as  if  she  was  making  for  some  point,  and 
old  James  shuffled  after  her,  crying,  "  Stop,  stop  ! 
young  woman.  What  is  your  name,  young  wo- 
man ; 

"  Why,  James  Burdock,"  cried  the  lady,  re- 
moving her  hood,  "  have  you  forgotten  your  mis- 
tress ?  " 

« Mistress  ?  Why,  ]Miss  Mabel,  I  ask  your 
pardon,  madam  —  here  John,  Margery  !  " 

"  Hush  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Vane. 

"  But  where  are  your  trunks,  miss  ?  And 
where's  the  coach,  and  Darby  and  Joan  ?  To 
think  of  their  drawing  you  all  the  way  here  !  I'll 
have  'em  into  your  room  directly,  ma'am.  Miss, 
you've  come  just  in  time." 

"  What  a  dear,  good,  stupid  old  thing  you 
are,  James  !  Where  is  Ernest  —  Mr.  Vane  ? 
James,  is  he  well  and  happy  ?  I  want  to  sui'prise 
him." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  James,  'looking  down. 

"  I  left  the  stupid  old  coach  at  Islington, 
James.  The  something  —  pin  was  loose,  or  I 
don't  know  what.  Could  I  wait  two  hours  there  ? 
So  I  came  on  by  myself ;  you  wicked  old  man, 
you  let  me  talk,  and  don't  tell  me  how  he  is." 


PEG    ^VOFFi:>GTOX.  1T7 

"  Master  is  main  well,  ma'am,  and  thank  you," 
said  old  Burdock,  confused  and  uneasy. 

"  But  is  he  happy  ?  Of  coui'se  he  is.  Are  we 
not  to  meet  to-day  after  six  months  ?  Ah !  but 
never  mind,  they  are  gone  by." 

"  Lord  bless  her  !  "  thought  the  faithful  old 
fellow.  "  If  sitting  down  and  crying  could  help 
her,  I  wouldn't  be  long." 

By  this  time  they  were  in  the  banqueting 
room,  and  at  the  preparations  there  Mabel  gave  a 
start ;  she  then  colored.  "  O,  he  has  invited  his 
Mends  to  make  acquaintance.  I  had  rather  we 
had  been  alone  all  this  day  and  to-morrow.  But 
he  must  not  know  that.  No  ;  Us  friends  are  my 
friends,  and  shall  be  too,"  thought  the  country 
wife.  She  then  glanced  with  some  misgiving  at 
her  travelling  attire,  and  wished  she  had  brought 
one  trunk  with  her. 

"James,"    said    she,    "where   is    my   room? 
And  mind,  I  forbid  you  to   tell  a   soul   I    am 

come." 

"  Your  room.  Miss  Mabel  ?  " 

«  Well,  any  room  where  there  is  looking  glass 
and  water." 

She  then  went  to  a  door  which  opened  in  fact 


178  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

on  a  short  passage  leading  to  a  room  occupied  by 
Mr.  Vane  himself. 

"No,  no  !  "  cried  James.  "  That  is  master's 
room." 

"  Well,  is  not  master's  room  mistress's  room, 
old  man  ?     But  stay  ;  is  he  there  ?  " 

"  No  ma'am  ;  he  is  in  the  garden  with  a  power 
of  fine  folks."- 

"  They  shall  not  see  me  till  I  have  made  my- 
self a  little  more  decent,"  said  the  young  beauty, 
who  knew  at  bottom  how  httle  comparatively 
the  color  of  her  dress  could  affect  her  appear- 
ance, and  she  opened  Mr.  Vane's  door  and 
ghded  in. 

Burdock's  first  determination  was,  in  spite  of 
her  injunction,  to  tell  Colander  ;  but  on  reflec- 
tion he  argued,  "  And  then  what  will  they  do  ? 
They  will  put  their  heads  together,  and  deceive 
us  some  other  way.  No  !  "  thought  James,  with 
a  touch  of  spite,  "  we  shall  see  how  they  will 
all  look."  He  argued,  also,  that  at  sight  of  his 
beautiful  wife,  his  master  must  come  to  his  senses, 
and  the  Colander  faction  be  defeated  ;  and,  per- 
haps, by  the  mercy  of  Providence,  Colander  him- 
self turned  off. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  179 

Whilst  thus  ruminating,  a  thundering  knock 
at  the  door  almost  knocked  him  off  his  legs. 
"  There  ye  go  again,"  said  he,  and  went  angrily 
to  the  door.  Tliis  time  it  was  Huns  don,  who 
was  in  a  desperate  hurry  to  see  his  master. 

'^  Where  is  Sir  Charles  Pomander,  my  honest 
fellow  ?  "  said  he. 

"  In  the  garden,  my  Jack-a-dandy  !  "  said  Bur- 
dock, furiously. 

("Honest  fellow,"  among  servants,  implies 
some  moral  inferiority.) 

Into  the  garden  went  Hunsdon.  His  master 
—  all  whose  senses  were  playing  sentinel  —  saw 
him,  and  left  the  company  to  meet  him. 

*^  She  is  in  the  house,  sir." 

"  Good  !     Go  —  vanish  !  " 

Sir  Charles  looked  into  the  banquet  room ;  the 
haunch  was  being  placed  on  the  table.  He  re- 
turned with  the  information.  He  burned  to 
bring  husband  and  wife  together.  He  counted 
each  second  lost  that  postponed  this  (to  him) 
thrilling  joy.  O,  how  happy  he  was  !  — happier 
than  the  serpent,  when  he  saw  Eve's  white  teeth 
strike  into  the  apple  ! 

"Shall  we  pay  respect  to  this  haunch,  Mr. 
Quin  ? "  said  Vane,  gayly. 


180  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  Quin,  gravely. 

Colander  ran  down  a  by  path  with  an  immense 
bouquet,  wbicb  be  arranged  for  Mrs.  Woffington 
in  a  vase  at  Mr.  Vane's  left  band.  He  tben 
tbrew  open  the  windows,  which  were  on  the 
French  plan,  and  shut  within  a  foot  of  the  lawn. 

The  musicians  in  the  arbor  struck  up,  and  the 
company,  led  by  Mr.  Vane  and  Mrs.  Woffington, 
entered  the  room.  And  a  charming  room  it 
was  !  —  light,  lofty,  and  large  —  adorned  in  the 
French  way,  with  white  and  gold.  The  table 
was  an  exact  oval,  and  at  it  every  body  could 
hear  what  any  one  said ;  an  excellent  arrange- 
ment where  ideaed  guests  only  are  admitted  — 
which  is  another  excellent  arrangement,  though 
I  see  people  don't  think  so. 

The  repast  was  luxurious  and  elegant.  There 
was  no  profusion  of  unmeaning  dishes  ;  each  was 
a  bonne-bouche  —  an  undeniable  delicacy.  The 
glass  was  beautiful,  the  plates  silver ;  the  flowers 
rose  Hke  walls  from  the  table  ;  the  plate  massive 
and  glorious ;  rose  water  in  the  hand  glasses  ; 
music  crept  in  from  the  garden,  deHciously  sub- 
dued into  what  seemed  a  natural  sound.  A  broad 
stream    of    southern    sun   gushed   in    fiery  gold 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  181 

tlirough  the  open  window,  and,  like  a  red-hot 
rainbow,  danced  thi-ough  the  stained  glass  above 
it.  Existence  was  a  thing  to  bask  in  —  in  such 
a  place,  and  so  happy  an  hour ! 

The  guests  were  Quin,  Mrs.  Clive,  Mr.  Gib- 
ber, Sir  Charles  Pomander,  Mrs.  "Woffington,  and 
Messrs.  Soaper  and  Snarl,  critics  of  the  day. 
This  pair,  with  wonderful  sagacity,  had  arrived 
from  the  street  as  the  haunch  came  fi:om  the 
kitchen.  Good  humor  reigned ;  some  cuts  passed, 
but  as  the  .parties  professed  wit,  they  gave  and 
took. 

Quin  carved  the  haunch,  and  was  happy ; 
Soaper  and  Snarl  eating  the  same,  and  drinking 
Tokay,  were  mellowed  and  mitigated  into  hu- 
man flesh.  Mr.  Vane  and  Mrs.  Woffington  were 
happy ;  he,  because  his  conscience  was  asleep ; 
and  she,  because  she  felt  nothing  now  could 
shake  her  hold  of  him.  Sir  Charles  was  in  a 
sort  of  mental  chuckle.  His  head  burned,  his 
bones  ached ;  but  he  was  in  a  sort  of  nervous 
delight. 

"  Where  is  she  ? "  thought  he.  "  What  will 
she  do  ?  Will  she  send  her  maid  with  a  note  ? 
How  blue  he  will  look  !     Or,  will  she  come  her- 


182  PEG   WOFFIXGTON. 

self  ?  She  is  a  country  wife ;  there  must  be  a 
scene.  O,  why  doesn't  she  come  into  this  room  ? 
She  must  know  we  are  here  !  Is  she  watching 
some  where  ?  "  His  brain  became  puzzled,  and 
his  senses  were  sharpened  to  a  point ;  he  was  all 
eye,  ear,  and  expectation  ;  and  this  was  why  he  was 
the  only  one  to  hear  a  very  slight  sound  behind  the 
door  we  have  mentioned,  and  next  to  perceive  a 
lady's  glove  lying  close  to  that  door.  Mabel  had 
dropped  it  in  her  retreat.  Putting  this  and  that 
together,  he  was  led  to  hope  and  beheve  she  was 
there,  making  her  toilet,  perhaps,  and  her  arrival 
at  present  unknown. 

"  Do  you  expect  no  one  else  ?  "  said  he,  with 
feigned  carelessness,  to  Mr.  Vane. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  with  real  carelessness. 

"  It  must  be  so  !  What  fortune  !  "  thought 
Pomander. 

SoAPER.  —  Mr.  Gibber  looks  no  older  than  he 
did  five  years  ago. 

Snarl.  —  There  was  no  room  on  his  face  for  a 
fresh  wrinkle. 

SoAPER. — He!  he!  Nay,  Mr.  Snarl;  Mr. 
Gibber  is  like  old  port ;  the  more  ancient  lie 
grows,  the  more  delicious  his  perfiime. 


PEG   WOFFINGTOX.  183 

Snarl.  —  And  the  crustier  lie  gets. 

Clive.  —  Mr.  Yane,  you  should  always  sepa- 
rate those  two.  Snarl,  by  himself,  is  just  sup- 
portable ;  but  when  Soaper  paves  the  way  with 
his  hypocritical  praise,  the  pair  are  too  much; 
they  are  a  two-edged  sword. 

WoFFiNGTON.  —  Wanting  nothing  but  polish 
and  point. 

Vane.  —  Gentlemen,  we  abandon  your  neigh- 
bor, Mr.  Quin,  to  you. 

QuiN.  —  They  know  better.  If  they  don't 
keep  a  civil  tongue  in  their  heads,  no  fat  goes 
from  here  to  them. 

Gibber.  —  Ah,  Mr.  Vane,  this  room  is  de- 
lightful ;  but  it  makes  me  sad.  I  knew  this 
house  in  Lord  Longueville's  time  ;  an  unrivalled 
gallant,  Peggy.  You  may  just  remember  him. 
Sir  Charles. 

Pomander,  (with  his  eye  on  a  certain  door.)  — 
Yes,  yes  ;  a  gouty  old  fellow. 

Gibber  fired  up.  "  I  wish  you  may  ever  be  like 
him.  O,  the  beauty,  the  wit,  the  petits-soupers 
that  used  to  be  here  !  Longueville  was  a  great 
creature,  Mr.  Vane.  I  have  known  him  entertain 
a  fine  lady  in  this  room,  while  her  rival  was  fi*et- 
ting  and  fuming  on  the  other  side  of  that  door." 


184  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

"  Ah,  indeed  !  "  said  Sir  Charles. 

"  More  shame  for  him,"  said  Mr.  Vane. 

Here  was  luck !  Pomander  seized  this  oppor- 
tunity of  turning  the  conversation  to  his  object. 
With  a  mahcious  twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  inquii-ed 
of  Mr.  Gibber  what  made  him  fancy  the  house 
had  lost  its  virtue  in  Mr.  Vane's  hands. 

'* Because/'  said  Gibber,  peevishly,  ''you  aR 
want  the  true  sovoir  faire  nowadays,  because 
there  is  no  juste  milieu,  young  gentlemen.  The 
young  dogs  of  the  day  are  all  either  unprincipled 
heathen,  like  yourself,  or  Amadises,  like  our 
worthy  host."  The  old  gentleman's  face  and 
manners  were  Hke  those  of  a  patriarch,  regretting 
the  general  decay  of  viitue,  not  the  imaginary 
diminution  of  a  single  vice.  He  concluded,  with 
a  sigh,  that  "  The  true  preux  des  dames  went  eut 
with  the  full  peri^vag  ;  stap  my  vitals  !  " 

''  A  bit  of  fat,  Mr.  Gibber  ?  "  said  Quin,  whose 
jokes  were  not  poHshed. 

"  Jemmy,  thou  art  a  brute,"  was^  the  reply, 

"  You  refuse,  sir  ?  "  said  Quin,  sternly. 

'^  No,  sir  !  "  said  Gibber,  with  dignity  ;  "  I 
accept." 

Pomander's  eye  was  ever  on  the  door. 


PEG   WOFFINGTON.  185 

"The.  old  are  so  unjust  to  the  young,"  said 
he.  "  You  pretend  that  the  deluge  washed  away 
iniquity,  and  that  a  rake  is  a  fossil.  "What," 
said  he,  leaning  as  it  were  on  every  word,  "  if  I 
bet  you  a  cool  hundred,  that  Vane  has  a  petticoat 
in  that  room,  and  that  Mrs.  WofEngton  shall  un- 
earth her  ?  " 

The  malicious  dog  thought  this  was  the  surest 
way  to  effect  a  dramatic  exposure;  because,  if 
Peggy  found  Mabel  to  all  appearances  concealed, 
Peggy  would  scold  her,  and  betray  herself. 

"  Pomander  !  "  cried  Vane,  in  great  heat ;  then 
checking  himself,  he  said  coolly,  "  But  you  all 
know  Pomander." 

"  None  of  you,"  replied  that  gentleman. 
"  Bring  a  chair,  sir,"  said  he,  authoritatively  to 
a.  servant ;  who,  of  course,  obeyed. 

Mrs.  Clive  looked  at  him,  and  thbught, 
"  There  is  something  in  this  !  " 

"It  is  for  the  lady,"  said  he  coolly.  Then, 
leaning  over  the  table,  he  said  to  Mrs.  Woffing- 
ton,  with  an  impudent  affectation  of  friendly  un- 
derstanding, "I  ran  her  to  earth  in  this  house 
not  ten  minutes  ago.  Of  course,  I  don't  know 
who  she  is  !  But,"  smacking  his  lips,  "  a  rustic 
16 


186  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

Amaryllis,- breathing  all  May -buds  and  .Meadow- 
sweet." 

*'  Have  her  out,  Peggy ! "  shouted  Gibber. 
"  I  know  the  run  —  there's  the  covert !  Hark 
forward !     Ha  !  ha !  ha  ! " 

Mr.  Vane  rose,  and  with  a  sternness  that 
brought  the  old  beau  up  with  a  run,  he  said, 
*'  Mr.  Gibber,  age  and  infirmity  are  privileged ; 
but  for  you.  Sir  Gharles " 

"  Don't  be  angry,"  interposed  Mrs.  "Woffing- 
ton,  whose  terror  was  lest  he  should  quarrel  with 
so  practised  a  swordsman.  "  Don't  you  see  it  is 
a  jest !  and,  as  might  be  expected  from  poor  Sir 
Gharles,  a  very  sorry  one." 

"  A  jest ! "  said  Vane,  white  with  rage.  *'  Let 
it  go  no  farther,  or  it  will  be  earnest ! " 

Mrs.  Woffington  placed  her  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der, £tnd  at  that  touch  he  instantly  yielded,  and 
sat  down. 

It  was  at  this  moment,  when  Sir  Gharles  found 
himself  for  the  present  baffled  —  for  he  could  no 
longer  press  his  point,  and  search  that  room  ; 
when  the  attention  of  all  was  drawn  to  a  dispute, 
which,  for  a  moment,  had  looked  like  a  quarrel  ; 
whilst  Mrs.  Woffington's  hand  still  lingered,  as 


PEG    WOFFITs^GTON.  187 

only  a  "woman's  hand  can  linger  in  leaving  tlie 
'shoulder  of  the  man  she  loves ;  it  was  at  this 
moment,  the  door  opened  of  its  own  accord,  and 
a  most  beautiful  woman  stood,  with  a  light  step, 
upon  the  threshold  ! 

Nobody's  back  was  to  her,  except  Mr.  Vane's. 
Every  eye,  but  his,  was  spell-bound  upon  her. 

Mrs.  Woffington  withdrew  her  hand,  as  if  a 
scorpion  had  touched  her. 

A  stupor  of  astonishment  fell  on  them  all. 

Mr.  Vane,  seeing  the  direction  of  all  their  eyes, 
slued  himself  round  in  his  chair  into  a  most 
awkward  position,  and  when  he  saw  the  lady,  he 
was  utterly  dumbfounded !  But  she,  as  soon  as 
he  turned  his  face  her  way,  glided  up  to  him  with 
a  little  half  sigh,  half  cry  of  joy,  and  taking  him 
round  the  neck,  kissed  him  deliciously,  while 
every  eye  at  the  table  met  every  other  eye  in  turn. 
One  or  two  of  the  men  rose ;  for  the  lady's  beau- 
ty was  as  worthy  of  homage  as  her  appearing  was 
marvellous. 

Mrs.  Wof&ngton,  too  astonished  for  emotion  to 
take  any  definite  shape,  said,  in  what  seemed  an 
o>-dinary  tone,  "  Who  is  this  lady  ?  " 

"  I  am  his  wife,  madam,"  said  Mabel,  in  the 


188  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

voice  bf  a  skylark,  and  smiling  friendly  on  the 
questioner. 

"  It  is  my  wife  !  "  said  Vane,  like  a  speaking 
machine  ;  he  was  scarcely  in  a  conscious  state. 
"  It  is  my  wife  !  "  he  repeated  mechanically. 

The  words  were  no  sooner  out  of  Mabel's 
mouth  than  two  servants,  who  had  never  heard 
of  Mrs.  Vane  before,  hastened  to  place  on  Mr. 
Vane's  right  hand  the  chair  Pomander  had  pro- 
vided ;  a  plate  and  napkin  were  there  in  a  twin- 
kling, and  the  wife  modestly,  but  as  a  matter  of 
course,  courtesied  low,  with  an  air  of  welcome  to 
all  her  guests,  and  then  glided  into  the  seat  her 
servants  obsequiously  placed  for  her. 

The  whole  thing  did  not  take  half  a  minute  ! 


CHAPTER    XI. 

Mr.  Vane,  besides  being  a  rich,  was  a  mag- 
nificent man ;  when  bis  features  were  in  repose 
tbeir  beauty  had  a  wise  and  stately  character. 
Soaper  and  Snarl  had  admired,  and  bitterly  en- 
vied him.  At  the  present  moment  no  one  of  his 
guests  envied  him  —  they  began  to  realize  his 
position.  And  he,  a  huge  wheel  of  shame  and 
remorse,  began  to  turn  and  whirr  before  his  eyes. 
He  sat  between  two  European  beauties  ;  and  pale 
and  red  by  turns,  shunned  the  eyes  of  both,  and 
looked  down  at  his  plate  in  a  cold  sweat  of  hu- 
miliation, mortification,  and  shame.- 

The  iron  passed  through  Mrs.  WofEngton's 
soul.  So  !  tliis  was  a  villain,  too ;  the  greatest 
villain  of  all  —  a  hypocrite !  She  turned  very 
faint,  but  she  was  under  an  enemy's  eye,  and  un- 
der a  rival's  ;  the  thought  drove  the  blood  back 
from  her  heart,  and  with  a  mighty  efibrt  she  was 
Woffington  again.     Hitherto  her  liaison  with  Mr. 

Yalie  had  called  up  the. better  part  of  her  nature, 

189 


190  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

and  perhaps  our  reader  has  been  taking  her  for  a 
good  woman  ;  but  now  all  her  dregs  were  stu-red 
to  the  surface.  The  mortified  actress  gulled  by  a 
novice,  the  wronged  and  insulted  woman,  had  but 
two  thoughts;  to  defeat  her  rival — to  be  re- 
venged on  her  false  lover.  More  than  one  sharp 
spasm  passed  over  her  features  before  she  could 
master  them,  and  then  she  became  smiles  above, 
wormwood  and  red-hot  steel  below  —  all  in  less 
than  half  a  minute. 

As  for  the  others,  looks  of  keen  intelligence 
passed  between  them,  and  they  watched  with 
burning  interest  for  the  denouement.  That  inter- 
est was  stronger  than  their  sense  of  the  comical- 
ity of  all  this,  (for  the  hiunorous  view  of  what 
passes  before  our  eyes,  comes  upon  cool  reflection, 
not  often  at  the  time.) 

Sir  Charles,  indeed,  who  had  foreseen  some  of 
this,  wore  a  demui-e  look,  belied  by  his  glittering 
eye.  He  ofiered  Gibber  snuff,  and  the  two  satir- 
ical animals  grinned  over  the  snuffbox  Hke  a 
malicious  old  ape  and  a  mischievous  young  mon- 
key. 

The  new  comer  was  charming  ;  she  was  above 
the  middle  height,  of  a  ful^  though  graceful  figitre, 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  191 

her  abundant,  glossy,  bright  brown  haii*  glittered 
here  and  there  hke  gold  in  the  Hght ;  she  had  a 
snowy  brow,  eyes  of  the  profoundest  blue,  a  cheek 
like  a  peach,  and  a  face  beaming  candor  and 
goodness ;  the  character  of  her  countenance  re- 
sembled "  the  Queen  of  the  May,"  in  Mr.  Leslie's 
famous  picture,  more  than  any  face  of  our  day  I 
can  call  to  mind. 

"You  are  not  angry  with  me   for  this  silly 
trick  ?  "  said  she,  with  some  misgiving.     "  After 
all  I  am  only  two  hours  before  my  time;  you* 
know,  dearest,  I  said  four  in  my  letter  —  did  I 
not?" 

Vane  stammered.     What  could  he  say  ? 

"And  you  have  had  three  days  to  prepare 
you,  for  I  wrote,  like  a  good  wife,  to  ask  leave 
before  starting;  but  he  never  so  much  as  an- 
swered my  letter,  madam."  (This  she  addressed 
to  Mrs.  Woffington,  who  smiled  by  main  force.) 

"  Why,"  stammered  Yane,  "  could  you  doubt  ? 
I  —  I  —  " 

"  No  !  Silence  was  consent,  was  it  not  ?  But 
I  beg  your  pardon,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  hope 
you  will  forgive  me.  It  is  six  months  since  I 
saw  him  —  so  you  understand  —  I  warrant  me 
you  did  not  look  for  me  so  soon,  ladies  ?  " 


192  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Some  of  us  did  not  look  for  you  at  all,  mad- 
am," said  Mrs.  Woffington. 

"  What,  Ernest  did  not  tell  you  he  expected 


me 


?" 


*'  No  !  He  told  us  this  banquet  was  in  honor 
of  a  lady's  first  visit  to  his  house,  but  none  of  us 
imagined  that  lady  to  be  his  wife." 

Vane  began  to  writhe  under  that  terrible 
tongue,  whose  point  hitherto  had  ever  been 
turned  away  fi.'om  him. 

"  He  intended  to  steal  a  march  on  us,"  said 
Pomander,  diyly ;  "  and  with  your  help,  we  steal 
one  on  him ;  "  and  he  smiled  maliciously  on  ISIrs. 
Woffington. 

"  But,  madam,"  said  Mr.  Quin,  "  the  moment 
you  did  arrive,  I  kept  sacred  for  you  a  bit  of  the 
fat ',  for  which,  I  am  sui-e,  you  must  be  ready. 
Pass  her  plate  !  " 

"Not  at  present,  Mr.  Quin,"  said  Mr.  Vane, 
hastily.  "  She  is  about  to  retire  and  change  her 
travelling  dress." 

"  Yes,  dear ;  but  you  forget,  I  am  a  stranger 
to  your  friends.  Will  you  not  introduce  me  to 
them  fii'st  ?  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  Vane,  in  trepidation.  "  It 
is  not  usual  to  introduce  in  the  heau  monde." 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  193 

"'We  always  ^introduce  ourselves,"  rejoined 
Mrs.  Woffington ;  and  she  rose  slowly,  with  her 
eye  on  Vane.  He  cast  a  look  of  abject  entreaty 
on  her ;  but  there  was  no  pity  in  that  curHng  lip 
and  awfiil  eye.  He  closed  his  own  eyes,  and 
waited  for  the  blow.  Sir  Charles  threw  hiriiself 
back  in  his  chaii',  and  chuckling,  prepared  for  the 
explosion.  Mrs.  Woffington  saw  him,  and  cast 
on  him  a  look  of  ineffable  scorn ;  and  then  she 
held  the  whole  company  fluttering  a  long  while. 
At  length,  "  The  Honorable  Mrs.  Quickly,  mad- 
am," said  she,  indicating  Mrs.  Clive. 

This  turn  took  them  all  by  surprise.  Poman- 
der bit  his  lip. 

«  Sir  John  Brute " 

"  Falstaff,"  cried  Quin ;  "  hang  it." 

"  Sir  John  Brute  Falstaff,"  resumed  Mrs.  "Wof- 
fington.    "  We  call  him,  for  brevity.  Brute." 

Vane  drew  a  long  breath.  "  Your  neighbor  is 
Lord  Foppington ;  a  butterfly  of  some  standing, 
and  a  little  gouty." 

"  Sir  Charles  Pomander." 

"  O  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Vane.  "  It  is  the  good 
gentleman  who  helped  us  out  of  the  slough  near 
Huntingdon.  Ernest,  if  it  had  not  been  for  this 
17 


194  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

gentleman,  I  should  not  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
being  here  now."  And  she  beamed  on  the  good 
Pomander. 

Mr.  Vane  did  not  rise  and  embrace  Sir 
Charles. 

"  All  the  company  thanks  the  good  Sir 
Charles/'  said  Cibber,  bowing. 

"I  see  it  in  all  their  faces,"  said  the  good 
Sir  Charles,  dryly. 

Mrs.  "Woffington  continued  :  "  Mr.  Soaper, 
Mr.  Snarl ;  gentlemen  who  would  butter  and 
slice  up  their  own  fathers  ! " 

"  Bless  me  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Vane,  faintly. 

"  Critics  ! "  And  she  dropped,  as  it  were,  the 
word  dryly,  with  a  sweet  smile,  into  Mabel's 
plate. 

Mrs.  Vane  was  relieved  ;  she  had  apprehended 
cannibals.  London  they  had  told  her  was  full 
of  curiosities. 

"  But  yourself,  madam  ?  " 

"  I  am  the  Lady  Betty  Modish ;  at  your  ser- 
vice." 

A  four  inch  grin  went  round  the  table.  The 
dramatical  old  rascal,  Cibber,  began  now  to  look 
at  it  as  a  bit  of  genteel  comedy,  and  sHpped  out 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  195 

his  note  book  under  the  table.  Pomander  cursed 
her  ready  wit,  wliich  had  disappointed  him  of  his 
catastrophe.  Vane  wrote  on  a  slip  of  paper, 
"  Pity  and  respect  the  innocent !  "  and  passed  it 
to  Mrs.  "Woffington.  He  could  not  have  done  a 
more  superfluous  or  injudicious  thing. 

"And  now,  Ernest,"  cried  Mabel,  "for  the 
news  from  Willoughby." 

Vane  stopped  her  in  dismay.  He  felt  how 
many  satirical  eyes  and  ears  were  upon  him  and 
his  wife.  "  Pray  go  and  change  your  dress  first, 
Mabel,"  cried  he,  fully  determined  that  on  her 
retiu'n  she  should  not  find  the  present  party 
there. 

Mrs.  Vane  cast  an  imploring  look  .  on  Mrs. 
Woffington.  "  My  things  are  not  come,"  said 
she.  "  And,  Lady  Betty,  I  had  so  much  to  tell 
him,  and  to  be  sent  away ; "  and  the  deep  blue 
eyes  began  to  fill. 

Now,  Mrs.  "Woffington  was  determined  that 
this  lady,  who  she  saw  was  simple,  should  disgust 
her  husband,  by  talking  twaddle  before  a  band 
of  satii'ists.  So  she  said  warmly,  "  It  is  not  fair 
on  us.  Pray,  madam,  your  budget  of  country 
news.  Clouted  cream  so  seldom  comes  to  Lon- 
don quite  firesL* 


196  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  There,  you  see,  Ernest/'  said  tlie  unsnspi 
cious  soul.  "  Fii'st,  you  must  know  that  Gray 
Gillian  is  turned  out  for  a  brood  mare,  so  old 
George  won't  let  me  ride  her ;  old  servants  are 
such  tyrants,  my  lady.  And  my  Barbary  hen 
has  laid  two  eggs  ;  Heaven  knows  the  trouble  we 
had  to  bring  her  to  it.  And  Dame  Best,  that  is 
my  husband's  old  nurse,  Mrs.  Quickly,  has  had 
soup  and  pudding  from  the  hall  every  day,  and 
once  she  went  so  far  as  to  say  it  wasn't  altogether 
a  bad  pudding.  She  is  not  a  veiy  grateful  wo- 
man, in  a  general  way,  poor  thing !  I  made  it 
with  these  hands." 

Yane  writhed. 

"  Happy  pudding  !  "  observed  Mr.  Gibber. 

**  Is  this  mockeiy,  sii'  ? "  cried  Vane,  with  a 
sudden  bui'st  of  mitation. 

"  No^  sir ;  it  is  gallantry,"  replied  Gibber,  with 
perfect  coolness. 

"  Will  you  hear  a  Httle  music  in  the  garden  ?  " 
said  Vane  to  Mrs.  Woffington,  pooh-poohing  his 
wife's  news. 

"  Not  till  I  hear  the  end  of  Dame  Bess." 

''  Best,  my  lady." 

"  Dame  Best  interests  me,  Mr.  Vane." 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  197 

"  Ay  !  and  Ernest  is  very  fond  of  her,  too, 
when  he  is  at  home.  She  is  in  her  nice  new  cot- 
tage, dear  ;  but  she  misses  the  draughts  that  were 
in  her  old  one  —  they  were  like  old  friends. 
'  The  only  ones  I  have,  I'm  thinking,'  said  the 
dear,  cross  old  thing ;  and  there  stood  T,  on  her 
floor,  with  a  flannel  petticoat  in  both  hands,  that 
I  had  made  for  her,  and  ruined  my  finger.  Look 
else,  my  Lord  Foppington !  "  She  extended  a 
hand  the  color  of  cream. 

"  Permit  me,  madam  ?  "  taking  out  his  glasses, 
with  which  he  inspected  her  finger  ;  and  gravely 
announced  to  the  company,  "  The  laceration  is, 
in  fact,  discernible.  May  I  be  permitted,  mad- 
am," added  he,  "  to  kiss  this  fair  hand,  which  I 
should  never  have  suspected  of  having  ever  made 
itself  half  so  useful  ?  " 

"  Ay,  my  lord  !  "  said  she,  coloring  slightly, 
*'  you  shall,  because  you  are  so  old ;  but  I  don't 
say  for  a  young  gentleman,  unless  it  was  the 
one  that  belongs  to  me ;  and  he  does  not  ask 
me." 

"  My  dear  Mabel,  pray  remember  we  are  not 
at  Willoughby." 

^'  I  see  we  are  not,  Ernest."     And  the  dove- 


198  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

like  eyes   filled  bnmful ;    and  all  her  innocent 
prattle  was  put  an  end  to. 

"  What  brutes  men  are  !  "  thought  Mrs.  Woi 
fington.     "  They  are  not  worthy  even  of  a  fool 
like  this." 

Mr.  Vane  once  more  pressed  her  to  hear  a  little 
music  in  the  garden  ;  and  this  time  she  consented. 
]\Ir.  Vane  was  far  from  being  unmoved  by  his 
wife's  arrival,  and  her  true  affection.  But  she 
worried  him ;  he  was  anxious,  above  all  things, 
to  escape  from  his  present  position,  and  separate 
the  rival  queens  ;  and  this  was  the  only  way  he 
could  see  to  do  it.  He  whispered  Mabel,  and 
bade  her,  somewhat  peremptorily,  rest  herself  for 
an  horn*  after  her  journey,  and  he  entered  the 
garden  with  Mrs.  Woffington. 

Now,  the  other  gentlemen  admii-ed  Mrs.  Vane 
the  most.  She  was  new.  She  was  as  lovely,  in 
her  way,  as  Peggy ;  and  it  was  the  young  May- 
morn  beauty  of  the  country.  They  forgave  her 
simplicity,  and  even  her  goodness,  on  account  of 
her  beauty ;  men  are  not  severe  judges  of  beauti- 
ful women.  They  all  solicited  her  to  come  with 
them,  and  be  the  queen  of  the  garden.  But  the 
good  wife  was  obedient.  Her  lord  had  told  her 
she  was  fatigued ;  so  she  said  she  was  tired. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  199 

"  Mr.  Vane's  garden  will  lack  its  sweetest  and 
fairest  flower,  madam,"  cried  Gibber,  "  if  we 
leave  you  here." 

"  Nay,  my  lord,  there  are  fairer  than  I." 

"Poor  Quin!"  cried  Kitty  Clive ;  "to  have 
to  leave  the  alderman's  walk  for  the  garden 
walk." 

"All  I  regret,"  said  the  honest  glutton,  stoutly, 
"  is  that  I  go  without  carving  for  Mrs.  Vane." 

"  You  are  very  good,  Sir  John ;  I  will  be 
more  troublesome  to  you  at  supper  time." 

"When  they  were  all  gone,  she  couldn't  help 
sighing.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  every  body  was 
kinder  to  her  than  he  whose  kindness  alone  she 
valued.  "  And  he  must  take  Lady  Betty's  hand 
instead  of  mine,"  thought  she.  "But  that  ia 
good  breeding,  I  suppose.  I  wish  there  was  no 
such  thing  ;  we  are  very  happy  without  it  in 
Shropshire."  Then  this  poor  little  soul  was 
ashamed  of  herself,  and  took  herself  to  task. 
"  Poor  Ernest,"  said  she,  pitying  the  wrong- 
doer, like  a  woman,  "  he  was  not  pleased  to  be 
so  taken  by  surprise.  No  wonder ;  they  are  so 
ceremonious  in  London.  How  good  of  him  not 
to  be  angry  !  "     Then  she  sighed ;  her  heart  had 


200  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

received  a  damp.  His  voice  seemed  changed, 
an4  he  did  not  meet  her  eyes  with  the  look  he 
wore  at  Willoughby.  She  looked  timidly  into 
the  garden.  She  saw  the  gay  colors  of  beaux, 
as  well  as  of  belles  —  for  in  these  days  bfoadcloth 
had  not  displaced  silk  and  velvet  —  glancing  and 
shining  among  the  trees  ;  and  she  sighed,  but 
presently  brightening  up  a  little,  she  said,  "  I 
will  go  and  see  that  the  coffee  is  hot  and  clear, 
and  the  chocolate  well  mixed  for  them."  The 
poor  child  wanted  to  do  something  to  please  her 
husband.  Before  she  could  carry  out  this  act  of 
domestic  vii'tue,  her  attention  was  drawn  to  a 
strife  of  tongues  in  the  hall.  She  opened  the 
folding  doors,  and  there  was  a  fine  gentleman 
obstructing  the  entrance  of  a  sombre,  rusty  figui'e, 
with  a  portfolio  and  a  manuscript  under  each 
arm. 

The  fine  gentleman  was  Colander.  The  seedy 
personage  was  the  eternal  Triplet,  come  to  make 
hay  with  his  five-foot  rule  while  the  sun  shone. 
Colander  had  opened  the  door  to  him,  and  he  had 
shot  into  the  hall.  The  major  domo  obstructed 
the  farther  entrance  of  such  a  coat. 

"  I  tell  you  my  master  is  not  at  home,"  remon- 
strated the  major  domo. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  201 

'^  How  can  you  say  so/'  cried  Mrs.  Vane,  in 
surprise,  "  wlien  you  know  he  is  in  the  garden  ?  " 

"  Simpleton !  "  thought  Colander. 

"  ShoAV  the  gentleman  in." 

"  Gentleman  !  "  muttered  Colander. 

Triplet  thanked  her  for  her  condescension ;  he 
would  wait  for  Mr.  Vane  in  the  hall.  "  I  came 
by  appointment,  madam  ;  this  is  the  only  excuse 
for  the  importunity  you  have  just  witnessed." 

Hearing  this,  Mrs.  Vane  dismissed  Colander 
to  inform  his  master.  •  Colander  bowed  loftily, 
and  walked  into  the  servants'  hall  without  deign- 
ing to  take  the  last  proposition  into  consideration. 

"  Come  in  here,  sir,"  said  Mabel ;  "  Mr.  Vane 
will  come  as  soon  as  he  can  leave  his  company." 
Triplet  entered  in  a  series  of  obsequious  jerks. 
''  Sit  down  and  rest  you,  sir."  And  Mrs.  Vane 
seated  herself  at  the  table,  and  motioned  with 
her  white  hand  to  Triplet  to  sit  beside  her. 

Triplet  bowed,  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  chair, 
and  smirked  and  dropped  his  portfolio,  and  in- 
stantly begged  Mrs.  Vane's  pardon ;  in  taking  it 
up,  he  let  fall  his  manuscript,  and  was  again  con- 
fused ;  but  in  the  middle  of  some  superfluous 
and  absurd  excuse  his  eye  fell  on  the  haunch ;  it 


20^  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

straightway  dilated  to  an  enormous  size,  and  lie 
became  suddenly-  silent  and  absorbed  in  contem- 
plation. 

^'  You  look  sadly  tired,  sir." 

"  Why,  yes,  madam.  It  is  a  long  way  from 
Lambeth  "Walk,  and  it  is  passing  hot,  madam." 
He  took  his  handkerchief  out,  and  was  about 
to  wipe  his  brow,  but  returned  it  hastily  to  his 
pocket.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  madam,"  said 
Triplet,  whose  ideas  of  breeding,  though  specu- 
lative, were  severe,  "  I  forgot  myself." 

Mabel  looked  at  him,  and  colored,  and  slightly 
hesitated.  At  last  she  said,  "  I'll  be  bound  you 
came  in  such  a  hurry  you  forgot  —  you  musn't 
be  angry  with  me  —  to  have  your  dinner  first  ?  " 

For  Triplet  looked  like  an  absurd  wolf  —  all 
benevolence  and  starvation ! 

"  What  divine  intelHgence  !  "  thought  Trip. 
*'  How  strange,  madam,"  cried  he,  "  you  have 
hit  it!  This  accounts,  at  once,  for  a  craving  I 
feel.  Now  you  remind  me,  I  recollect  carving 
for  others,  I  did  forget  to  remember  myself.  Not 
that  I  need  have  forgot  it  to-day,  madam  ;  but 
being  used  to  forget  it,  I  did  not  remember  not 
to  forget  it  to-day,  madam,  that  was  all."     And 


PEG    WOFFIXGTON.  £03 

tlie  author  of  this  intelligent  accoimt  smiled, 
very,  very,  very  absiu'dly. 

She  poured  him  out  a  glass  of  wine.  He  rose 
and  bowed  ;  but  peremptorily  refused  it,  with  his 
tongue  —  his  eye  drank  it. 

"  But  you  must,"  persisted  this  hospitable  lady. 

*'  But,  madam,  consider  I  am  not  entitled  to  — 
Nectar,  as  I  am  a  man ! " 

The  white  hand  was  filling  his  plate  with  par- 
tridge pie  :  "  But,  madam,  you  don't  consider 
how  you  overwhelm  me  with  your  —  Ambrosia, 
as  I  am  a  poet ! " 

"  I  am  sorry  Mr.  Vane  should  keep  you  wait- 
ing." 

"  By  no  means,  madam ;  it  is  very  fortunate  — 
I  mean  it  procures  me  the  pleasure  of — "  (here 
articulation  became  obstructed)  "  your  society, 
madam.  Besides,  the  servants  of  the  Muse  are 
used  to  waiting.  What  we  are  not  used  to  is  " 
(here  the  white  hand  filled  his  glassj  "being 
waited  upon  by  Hebe  and  the  Twelve  Graces, 
whose  health  I  have  the  honor "  (Degluti- 
tion) 

"  A  poet !  "  cried  Mabel ;  "  0,  I  am  so  glad  I 
Little  did  I  think  ever  to  see  a  living  poet !  Dear 


<• 


204  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

heart !  I  should  not  have  known,  if  you  had  not 
told  me.     Six,  I  love  poetry  ! " 

''It  is  in  your  face,  madam."  Triplet  in- 
stantly whipped  out  his  manuscript,  put  a  plate 
on  one  corner  of  it,  and  a  decanter  on  the  other, 
and  begged  her  opinion  of  this  trifle,  composed, 
said  he,  "in  honor  of  a  lady  Mr.  Vane  enter- 
tains to-day." 

"  O,"  said  Mrs.  Vane,  and  colored  with  pleas- 
ure. How  ungrateful  she  had  been  !  Here  was 
an  attention !  —  For,  of  course,  she  never  doubted 
that  the  verses  were  in  honor  of  her  arrival. 


"*  Bright  being '" 

sang  out  Triplet. 

"  Nay,  sir,"  said  Mabel ;  "  I  think  I  know 
the  lady,  and  it  would  be  hardly  proper  of 
me " 

"  0  madam !  "  said  Triplet,  solemnly ;  "  strictly 
correct,  madam  !  "  And  he  spread  his  hand  out 
over  his  bosom.  "  Strictly !  — '  Blunderbuss  '  (my 
poetical  name,  madam)  never  stooped  to  the  taste 
of  the  town. 

*  Bright  being,  thou '  " 

"  But  you  must  have  another  glass  of  wine 
first,  and  a  slice  of  the  haunch." 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  205 

"  With,  alacrity,  madam."  He  laid  in  a  fresh 
stock  of  provisions. 

Strange  it  was,  to  see  them  side  by  side !  he,  a 
Don  Quixote,  with  cordage  instead  of  lines  in 
his  mahogany  face,  and  clothes  hanging  upon 
him  :  she,  smooth,  duck-like,  delicious,  and 
bright  as  an  opening  rose  fi-esh  with  dew  ! 

She  watched  him  kindly,  archly,  and  demui'ely  : 
and  still  plied  him,  country -wise,  with  every  mor- 
tal thing  on  the  table. 

But  the  poet  was  not  a  boa  constrictor,  and 
even  a  boa  constrictor  has  an  end.  Himger  sat- 
isfied, his  next  strongest  feeling,  simple  vanity, 
remained  to  be  contented.  As  tbe  last  morsel 
went  in  out  came,  — 

"  *  Bright  being,  thou  whose  ra '  " 


"  No !  no !  "  said  she,  wbo  fancied  herself 
(and  not  without  reason)  tbe  bright  being.  "  Mr. 
Vane  intended  them  for  a  surprise." 

"  As  you  please,  madam ; "  and  the  disap- 
pointed bore  sighed.  "  But  you  would  have 
liked  them,  for  the  theme  inspired  me.  The 
kindest,  the  most  generous  of  women !  Don't 
you  agree  with  me,  madam  ?  " 


206  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

Mabel  Yane  opened  lier  eyes.  "  Hardly,  sil*," 
laughed  she. 

**  If  you  knew  her  as  I  do  !  " 
"  I  ought  to  know  her  better,  sir." 
"  Ay,  indeed !  Well,  madam,  now  her  kind- 
ness to  me,  for  instance  —  a  poor  devil  like  me  ! 
The  expression,  I  trust,  is  not  disagreeable  to 
you,  madam  ?  If  so,  fgrgive  me,  and  consider  it 
withdrawn." 

"  La,  sir !  civility  is  so  cheap,  if  you  go  to 
that." 

"  Civility,  ma'am  ?  Why,  she  has  saved  me 
from  despair  —  from  starvation,  perhaps." 

"  Poor  thing  !  Well,  indeed,  sir,  you  looked 
—  you  looked  —  what  a  shame  !  and  you  a 
poet !  " 

"  From  an  epitaph  to  an  epic,  madam." 
At  this  moment  a  figure  looked  in  upon  them 
from  the  garden,  but  retreated  unobserved.  It 
was  Sir  Charles  Pomander,  who  had  slipped 
away  with  the  heartless  and  malicious  intention 
of  exposing  the  husband  to  the  wife,  and  profit- 
ing by  her  indignation  and  despair.  Seeing 
Triplet,  he  made  an  extemporaneous  calculation 
that  so  infernal  a  chatterbox  could  not  be  ten 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  207 

minutes  in  her  company  without  telling  her  every 
thing  —  and  this  would  serve  his  turn  very  well. 
He  therefore  postposed  his  purpose,  and  strolled 
away  to  a  short  distance. 

Triplet  justified  the  baronet's  opinion.  "With- 
out any  sort  of  sequency,  he  now  informed  Mrs. 
Vane  that  the  benevolent  lady  was  to  sit  to  him 
for  her  portrait. 

Here  was  a  new  attention  of  Ernest's.  How 
good  he  was !  and  how  wicked  and  ungrateful  she ! 

"  What !  are  you  a  painter  too  ? "  she  in- 
quired. 

"  From  a  house  front  to  an  historical  composi- 
tion, madam." 

"  O,  what  a  clever  man  !  And  so  Ernest  com- 
missioned you  to  paint  a  portrait  ?  " 

"  No,  madam  ;  for  that  I  am  indebted  to  the 
lady  herself." 

"The  lady  herself?" 

"  Yes,  madam ;  and  I  expected  to  find  her 
here.  Will  you  add  to  your  kindness  by  in- 
forming me  whether  she  has  arrived  ?  Or  she 
is  gone " 

"  Who,  sir  ?  (O  dear !  not  my  portrait !  O 
Ernest ! )  " 


£08  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  Who,  madam  ?  "  cried  Triplet.  "  Why,  Mrs. 
Woffins^ton." 

"  She  is  not  here,"  said  Mrs.  Vane,  who  re- 
membered  all  the  names  perfectly  well.  "  There 
is  one  charming  lady  among  our  guests ;  her  face 
took  me  in  a  moment ;  but  she  is  a  titled  lady  : 
there  is  no  Mrs.  Woffington  amongst  them." 

"  Strange  !  "  rephed  Triplet.  "  She  was  to  be 
here  ;  and  in  fact  that  is  why  I  expedited  these 
lines  in  her  honor." 

"  In  her  honor,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam.     Allow  me  :  — 

*  Bright  being !  thou  whose  radiant  brow '  " 

"  No,  no.  I  don't  care  to  hear  them  now ;  for 
I  don't  know  the  lady." 

"  Well,  madam  —  but  at  least  you  have  seen 
her  act  ?  " 

"  Act !  You  don't  mean  all  this  is  for  an 
actress  ?  " 

''An  actress  ?  The  actress !  And  you  have 
never  seen  her  act  ?  What  a  pleasure  you  have 
to  come !  To  see  her  act  is  a  privilege  ;  but  to 
act  with  her  as  /  once  did !  But  she  does  not 
remember  that,  nor  shall  I  remind  her,  madam," 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  209 

said  Triplet,  sternly.  "  On  that  occasion  1  was 
hissed,  owing  to  circumstances,  which,  for  the 
credit  of  our  common  nature,  I  suppress." 

"  What !  are  you  an  actor  too  ?  You  are  ev- 
ery thing." 

''And  it  was  in  a  farce  of  my  own,  madam, 
which,  by  the  strangest  combiaation  of  accidents, 
was  damned." 

"  A  play  writer  ?  O,  what  clever  men  there 
are  in  the  world  —  in  London,  at  least !  He  is  a 
play  writer  too.  I  wonder  my  husband  comes  not. 
Does  Mr.  Vane  —  does  Mr.  Vane  admire  this 
actress  ?  "  said  she,  suddenly. 

"  Mr.  Vane,  madam,  is  a  gentleman  of  taste," 
said  he,  pompously. 

"  "Well,  sir,"  said  the  lady,  languidly,  "  she  is 
not  here."  Triplet  took  the  hint,  and  rose. 
"  Good  by,"  said  she,  sweetly  ;  "  and  thank  you 
kindly  for  your  company,  Mr.  —  Mr.  " 

"  Triplet,  madam  — James  Triplet,  of  10,  Her- 
cules Buildings,  Lambeth.  Occasional  verses, 
odes,  epithalamia,  elegies,  dedications,  squibs, 
impromptus,  and  hymns,  executed  with  spirit, 
punctuality,  and  secrecy.  Portraits  painted,  and 
Instruction  in  declamation  —  sacred,  profane,  and 


210  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

dramatic.  The  card,  madam,"  (and  he  drew  it 
as  doth  a  theatrical  fop  his  rapier,)  "  of  him, 
who,  to  all  these  qualifications,  adds  a  prouder 
stiU  —  that  of  being, 

"  Madam, 

"  Your  humble,  devoted,  and  grateful  servant, 

"James  Triplet." 

He  bowed  in  a  line  from  his  right  shoulder  to 
his  left  toe,  and  moved  off.  But  Triplet  could 
not  go  all  at  one  time  out  of  such  company ;  he 
was  given  to  retui'n  in  real  life,  he  had  played 
this  trick  so  often  on  the  stage.  He  came  back 
exuberant  with  gratitude. 

'^  The  fact  is,  madam,"  said  he,  "  strange  as  it 
may  appear  to  you,  a  kind  hand  has  not  so  often 
been  held  out  to  me,  that  I  should  forget  it,  es- 
pecially when  that  hand  is  so  fair  and  gracious. 
May  I  be  permitted,  madam  —  you  mil  impute  it 
to  gratitude,  rather  than  audacity  —  I  —  I  —  " 
(wliimper)  —  "  Madam,"  (with  sudden  severity,; 
"  I  am  gone  ! " 

These  last  words  he  pronounced  with  the  right 
arm  at  an  angle  of  forty -five  degrees,  and  the  fin- 
gers pointing  horizontally.  The  stage  had  taught 
him  this  grace  also.     In  his  day  an  actor  who 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  ^11 

had  three  words  to  say,  sucli  as,  "  My  lord's 
carriage  is  waiting,"  came  on  the  stage  with  the 
right  arm  thus  elevated,  deHvered  his  message  in 
the  tone  of  a  falling  dynasty,  wheeled  like  a  sol- 
dier, and  retired  with  the  left  arm  pointing  to  the 
sky,  and  the  right  extended  behind  him  like  a 
setter's  tail.  • 

Left  to  herself,  Mabel  was  uneasy.  ''  Ernest 
is  so  warm-hearted."  This  was  the  way  she  put 
it  even  to  herself  He  admired  her  acting,  and 
wished  to  pay  her  a  compliment.  "  What  if  I 
carried  him  the  verses  ?  "  She  thought  she  should 
surely  please  him  by  showing  she  was  not  the 
least  jealous  or  doubtful  of  him.  The  poor  child 
wanted  so  to  win  a  kind  look  from  her  husband ; 
but  ere  she  could  reach  the  window.  Sir  Charles 
Pomander  had  entered  it. 

Now,  Sir  Charles  was  naturally  welcome  to 
Mrs.  Vane ;  for  all  she  knew  of  him  was,  that  he 
had  helped  her  on  the  road  to  her  husband. 

Pomander.  —  What,  madam  !  all  alone  here, 
as  in  Shropshire  ? 

Mabel.  —  For  the  moment,  sir. 

Pomander.  —  Force  of  habit.  A  husband 
with  a  wife  in  Shropshire  is  so  like  a  bachelor. 


212  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

Mabel.  —  Sir ! 

Pomander.  —  And  our  excellent  Ernest  is 
such,  a  favorite ! 

Mabel.  —  No  wonder,  sir. 

Pomander.  —  Few  can  so  pass  from  the  larva 
state  of  country  squii'e  to  the  butterfly  natui'e  of 
beau. 

Mabel.  —  Yes,  (sadly,)  I  find  him  changed. 

Pomander.  —  Changed  !  Transformed.  He 
is  now  the  prop  of  the  "  Cocoa  Tree,"  the  star  of 
Ranelagh,  the  Lauzun  of  the  greenroom. 

Mabel.  —  The  greenroom  !  Where  is  that  ? 
You  mean  kindly,  sir;  but  you  make  me  un- 
happy. 

Pomander.  —  The  greenroom,  my  dear  mad- 
am, is  the  bower  where  houi'is  put  off  their  wings, 
and  goddesses  become  dowdies ;  where  Lady 
Macbeth  weeps  over  her  lapdog,  dead  from  reple- 
tion ;  and  Belvidera  soothes  her  broken  heart 
with  a  dozen  of  oysters.  In  a  word,  it  is  the 
place  where  actors  and  actresses  become  men 
and  women,  and  act  their  own  parts  with  skill, 
instead  of  a  poet's,  clumsily. 

Mabel.  —  Actors  !  actresses  !  Does  Mr.  Yane 
fr-equent  such 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  213 

Pomander. — He  has  earned  in  six  months  a 
reputation  many  a  fine  gentleman  would  give  his 
ears  for.  Not  a  scandalous  journal  his  initials 
have  not  figured  in ;  not  an  actress  of  repu- 
tation gossip  has  not  given  him  for  a  con- 
quest. 

"  How  dare  you  say  this  to  me  ?  "  cried  Mrs. 
Vane,  with  a  sudden  flash  of  indignation,  and 
then  the  tears  streamed  over  her  lovely  cheeks  ; 
and  even  a  Pomander  might  have  forborne  to  tor- 
ture her  so ;  but  Sir  Charles  had  no  mercy. 

"  You  would  be  sure  to  learn  it,"  said  he,  "  and 
with  malicious  additions.  It  is  better  to  hear  the 
truth  from  a  fi-iend." 

*^  A  friend  ?  He  is  no  friend  to  a  house  who 
calumniates  the  husband  to  the  wife.  Is  it  the 
part  of  a  friend  to  distort  dear  Ernest's  kindli- 
ness and  gayety  into  ill  morals  ?  to  pervert  his 
love  of  poetry  and  plays  into  an  unworthy  attach- 
ment to  actors  and O  !  "  and  the  tears  would 

come.  But  she  dried  them,  for  now  she  hated 
this  man  ;  with  all  the  Httle  power  of  hatred 
she  had  she  detested  him.  "  Do  you  suppose  I 
did  not  know  Mrs.  Woffington  was  to  come  to 
us   to-day  ?  "  cried    she,  struggling  passionately 


214  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

against  her  own  fears  and  Sir  Charles's  innuen- 
does. 

"  What !  "  cried  he  ;  "  you  recognized  her  . 
You  detected  the  actress  of  all  work  under  the 
airs  of  Lady  Betty  Modish !  " 

"  Lady  Betty  Modish !  "  cried  Mabel :  "  that 
good,  beautiful  face  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Sir  Charles,  "  I  see  you  did  not. 
Well,  Lady  Betty  was  Mrs.  Woffington  ! " 

'•'  Whom  my  husband,  I  know,  had  invited 
here  to  present  her  with  these  verses,  which  I 
shall  take  him  for  her  ;  "  and  her  poor  little  lip 
trembled.  "  Had  the  visit  been  in  any  other 
character,  as  you  are  so  base,  so  cruel  as  to  insin- 
uate, (what  have  I  done  to  you  that  you  kill  me 
so,  you  wicked  gentleman  ?)  would  he  have  chosen 
the  day  of  my  arrival  ?  " 

"  Not  if  he  knew  you  were  coming,"  was  the 
cool  reply. 

"  And  he  did  know  ;  I  wrote  to  him." 

*'  Indeed  !  "  said  Pomander,  fairly  puzzled. 

Mrs.  Vane  caught  sight  of  her  handwriting  on 
the  tray,  and  darted  to  it,  and  seized  her  letter, 
and  said,  triumphantly,  — 

"  My  last  letter,  written  upon  the  road  ;  see  I ' 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  215 

Sir  Charles  took  it  with  surprise,  but  turning 
it  in  his  hand,  a  cool  satirical  smile  came  to  his 
face.     He  handed  it  back,  and  said  coldly,  — 

"  Read  me  the  passage,  madam,  on  which  you 
argue." 

Poor  Mrs.  Yane  turned  the  letter  in  her  hand, 
and  her  eye  became  instantly  glazed;  the  seal 
was  unbroken !  She  gave  a  sharp  ciy  of  agony, 
like  a  wounded  deer.  She  saw  Pomander  no 
longer  ;  she  was  alone  with  her  great  anguish. 
"  I  had  but  my  husband  and  my  God  in  the 
world,"  cried  she.  "  My  mother  is  gone.  My 
God,  have  pity  on  me !  my  husband  does  not 
love  me." 

The  cold  villain  was  startled  at  the  mighty 
storm  his  mean  hand  had  raised.  This  creature 
had  not  only  more  feeling,  but  more  passion  than 
a  hundred  Hbertines.  He  muttered  some  villain's 
commonplaces  ;  while  this  unhappy  young  lady 
raised  her  hands  to  heaven,  and  sobbed  in  a  way 
very  terrible  to  any  manly  heart. 

''He  is  unworthy  you,"  muttered  Poman- 
der. "  He  has  forfeited  your  love  ;  he  has  left  you 
nothing  but  revenge.  Be  comforted.  Let  me, 
who  have  learned  already  to  adore  you " 


216  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

"  So/'  cried  sKe,  tui'ning  on  him  in  a  moment^ 
(for  on  some  points,  woman's  instinct  is  tlie  light 
ning  of  wisdom,)  "  this,  sir,  was  your  object  ?  I 
may  no  longer  hold  a  place  in  my  husband's 
heart ;  but  I  am  mistress  of  his  house.  Leave  it, 
sir  !  and  never  return  to  it  whilst  I  hve." 

Sir  Charles,  again  discomfited,  bowed  rever- 
entially. "Your  wish  shall  ever  be  respected 
by  me,  madam  !  But  here  they  come.  Use  the 
right  of  a  wife.  Conceal  yourself  in  that  high 
chair.  See !  I  turn  it,  so  that  they  cannot  see 
you.  At  least,  you  will  find  I  have  but  told  you 
the  truth." 

"  No  !  "  cried  Mabel,  violently.  "  I  will  not 
spy  upon  my  husband  at  the  dictation  of  his 
treacherous  friend." 

Sir  Charles  vanished.  He  was  no  sooner  gone 
than  Mrs.  Vane  crouched,  trembling,  and  writhing 
with  jealousy,  in  the  large,  high-backed  chair. 
She  heard  her  husband  and  the  soi-disant  Lady 
Betty  Modish  enter.  Dui'ing  their  absence  Mrs. 
"Woffington  had,  doubtless,  been  playing  her 
cards  with  art ;  for  it  appeared  that  a  reconciha- 
tion  was  now  taking  place.  The  lady,  however, 
was  still  cool  and  distant.     It  was  poor  Mabel's 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  217 

fate  to  hear  tliese  words  :  ^^  You  must  permit  me 
to  go  alone,  Mr.  Vane.  I  insist  upon  leaving  this 
house  alone." 

On  this  he  whispered  to  her. 

She  answered,  "  You  are  not  justified." 

"  I  can  explain  all,"  was  his  reply.  "  I  am 
i^ady  to  renounce  credit,  character,  all  the  world 
for  you." 

They  passed  out  of  the  room  before  the  unhap- 
py listener  could  recover  the  numbing  influence 
of  these  deadly  words. 

But  the  next  moment  she  started  wildly  up, 
and  cried,  as  one  di'owning  cries  vaguely  for  help, 
"  Ernest !  O  no  —  no  !  you  cannot  use  me  so  ! 
Ernest  —  husband  !  O  mother  !  mother  !  " 

She  rose,  and  would  have  made  for  the  door ; 
but  nature  had  been  too  cruelly  tried.  At  the 
first  step  she  could  no  longer  see  any  thing  ;  and 
the  next  moment  swooning  dead  away,  she  fell 
back  insensible,  with  her  head  and  shoulders 
resting  on  the  chair. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

Mr.  Vane  -was  putting  Mrs.  Woffington  into 
her  chair,  when  he  thought  he  heard  his  name 
cried.  He  bade  that  lady  a  mournful  farewell, 
and  stepped  back  into  his  own  hall.  He  had  no 
sooner  done  so,  than  he  heard  a  voice,  the  accent 
of  which  alarmed  him,  though  he  distinguished 
no  word.  He  hastily  crossed  the  hall,  and  flew 
into  the  banquet  room.  Coming  rapidly  in  at 
the  folding  doors,  he  almost  fell  over  his  wife,  ly- 
ing insensible,  half  upon  the  floor,  and  half  upon 
the  chair.  When  he  saw  her  pale  and  motion- 
less, a  terrible  misgiving  seized  him  ;  he  fell  on 
his  knees. 

"  Mabel,  Mabel ! "  cried  he,  "  my  love  !  my 
innocent  wife  !  O  God  !  what  have  I  done  ? 
Perhaps  it  is  the  fatigue  —  perhaps  she  has 
fainted." 

"  No,  it  is  not  the  fatigue  ! "  screamed  a  voice 
near  him.  It  was  old  James  Burdock,  who,  with 
his  white  hair  streaming,  and  his  eye  gleaming 

*^  218 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  219 

with  fii'e,  shook  his  fist  in  his  master's  face.  "  Xo, 
it  is  not  the  fatigue,  you  villain !  It  is  you  who 
have  killed  her,  with  your  Jezebels  and  harlot^ 
you  scoundrel ! " 

"  Send  the  women  here,  James,  for  God's 
sake  ! "  cried  Mr.  Vane,  not  even  noticing  the  in- 
sult he  had  received  fi:om  a  servant.  He  stamped 
furiously,  and  cried  for  help.  The  whole  house- 
hold was  round  her  in  a  moment.  They  carried 
her  to  bed. 

The  remorse-stricken  man,  his  own  knees  trem- 
bling under  him,  flew,  in  an  agony  of  fear  and 
self-reproach,  for  a  doctor ! 

A  doctor  1 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

During  the  garden  scene,  Mr.  Vane  had 
begged  Mrs.  Woffington  to  let  Mm  accompany 
her.  She  peremptorily  refused,  and  said  in  the 
same  breath  she  was  going  to  Triplet,  in  Her- 
cules Buildings,  to  have  her  portrait  finished. 

Had  Mr.  Vane  understood  the  sex,  he  would 
not  have  interpreted  her  refusal  to  the  letter  ; 
when  there  was  a  postscript,  the  meaning  of  which 
was  so  Httle  enigmatical. 

Some  three  hours  after  the  scene  we  have  de- 
scribed, Mrs.  Woffington  sat  in  Triplet's  apart- 
ment ;  and  Triplet,  palette  in  hand,  painted  away 
upon  her  portrait. 

Mrs.  Woffington .  was    in   that    languid    state 

which  comes   to  women   after  theii*  hearts  have 

received  a  blow.     She  felt  as  if  life  was  ended, 

and  but  the  dregs  of  existence  remained ;  but  at 

times  a  flood  of  bitterness  rolled  over  her,  and  she 

resigned  all  hope  of  perfect  happiness  in  this  world 

—  all  hope  of   loving   and  respecting  the  same 

220 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  221 

creature  ;  and  at  these  moments  she  had  but  one 
idea  —  to  use  her  own  power^  and  bind  her  lover 
to  her  by  chains  never  to  be  broken  ;  and  to  close 
her  eyes,  and  glide  down  the  precipice  of  the 
future. 

'^  I  think  you  are  master  of  this  art,"  said  she, 
very  languidly,  to  Triplet,   "  you  paint  so  rap- 

idly-" 

"  Yes,  madam,"  said  Triplet,  gloomily  ;  and 
painted  on.  "  Confound  this  shadow  !  "  added 
he  ;  and  painted  on. 

His  soul,  too,  was  clouded.  Mrs.  Woffington, 
yawning  in  his  face,  had  told  him  she  had  invited 
all  Mr.  Vane's  company  to  come  and  praise  his 
work ;  and  ever  since  that  he  had  been  morne  et 
silencieux. 

"  You  are  fortunate,"  continued  Mrs.  Woffing- 
ton, not  caring  what  she  said  ;  "  it  is  so, difficult 
to  make  execution  keep  pace  with  conception." 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  "  and  he  painted  on. 

"  You  are  satisfied  with  it  ?  " 

"  Any  thing  but,  ma'am  ;  "  and  he  painted  on. 

"  Cheerful  soul !  —  then  I  presume  it  is  Hke." 
-  "  Not  a  bit,  ma'am  ;  "  and  he  painted  on. 

Mrs.  "Woffington  stretched. 


PEG    WOrriNGTON. 

*'  You  can't  yawn,  ma'am  —  you  can't  yawn." 

"  O  yes,  I  can.  You  are  such  good  company ; " 
and  sKe  stretched  again. 

"  I  was  just  about  to  catch  the  turn  of  the  lip," 
remonstrated  Triplet. 

'^  Well,  catch  it  —  it  won't  i*un  away." 

"  I'll  try,  ma'am.  A  pleasant  half  hour  it  will 
be  for  me,  when  they  all  come  here  like  cits  at  a 
shilling  ordinary  —  each  for  his  cut." 

*^  At  a  sensitive  goose  !  " 

'*  That  is  as  may  be,  madam.  Those  critics 
flay  us  alive  ! " 

'^You  should  not  hold  so  many  doors  open  to 
censure." 

"No,  ma'am.  Head  a  little  more  that  way. 
I  suppose  you  can^i  sit  quiet,  ma'am  ?  —  then 
never  mind  ! "  (This  resignation  was  intended  as 
a  stinging  reproach.)  "  Mr.  Gibber,  with  his 
sneering  snuffbox  !  Mr.  Quin,  with  his  humor- 
ous bludgeon !  Mrs.  Clive,  vdth  her  tongue ! 
Mr.  Snarly  with  his  abuse  !  And  Mr.  Soaper, 
with  his  praise !  —  arsenic  in  treacle  I  call  it ! 
But  there,  I  deserve  it  all !  For  look  on  this 
picture,  and  on  this  !  " 

"  Meaning,  T  am  painted  as  well  as  my  picture ! " 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  223 

i 

"  0  no,  no,  no !  But  to  turn  from  your  face, 
madam  —  on  whicli  the  lightning  of  expression 
plays  continually  —  to  tliis  stony,  detestable,  dead 
daub  !  —  I  could  —  And  I  vn\l,  too !  Imposture  ! 
dead  caricature  of  life  and  beauty,  take  that ! " 
and  he  dashed  his  palette  knife  through  the  can- 
vas. "  Libellous  lie  against  natui'e  and  Mrs.  Wof- 
fington,  take  that !  "  and  he  stabbed  the  canvas 
again ;  then,  with  sudden  humility,  "  I  beg  your 
,  pardon,  ma'am,"  said  he,  "  for  tliis  apparent  out- 
rage, which  I  trust  you  will  set  down  to  the  ex- 
citement attendant  upon  failure.  The  fact  is,  I 
am  an  incapable  ass,  and  no  painter !  Others 
have  often  hinted  as  much ;  but  I  never  observed 
it  myself  till  now ! "  .  * 

''  Right  through  my  pet  dimple  ! "  said  Mrs. 
Woffington,  with  perfect  nonchalance.  ^^Well, 
now  I  suppose  I  may  yawn,  or  do  what  I  hke  ?  " 

"  You  may,  madam,"  said  Triplet,  gravely.  "  I 
have  forfeited  what  Httle  control  I  had  over  you, 
madam." 

So  they  sat  opposite  each  other,  in  mournful 
silence.  At  length,  the  actress  suddenly  rose. 
She  struggled  fiercely  against  her  depression,  and 
vowed  that  melancholy  should  not  benumb  her 
spirits  and  her  power. 


^24  PEG   WOrriNGTON. 

"  He  ought  to  have  been  here  by  this  tin;e/' 
said  she  to  herself.  "  Well,  I  will  not  mope  for 
him.:  I  must  do  something.     Triplet/'  said  she. 

"  Madam." 

"Nothing." 

"  No,  madam." 

She  sat  gently  down  again,  and  leaned  her  head 
on  her  hand,  and  thought,  She  was  beautiful  as 
she  thought !  —  her  body  seemed  bristling  with 
mind  !  At  last,  her  thoughtful  gravity  was  illu- 
mined by  a  smile  :  she  had  thought  out  some- 
thing excogitaverat. 

"  Triplet,  the  picture  is  quite  ruined  !  " 

"  Yes,  madam,  and  a  coach  load  of  criticism 
coming  ! " 

"Triplet,  we  actors  and  actresses  have  often 
bright  ideas." 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  When  we  take  other  people's  ! " 

"  He  !  he ! "  went  Triplet.  "  Those  are  our 
best,  madam !  " 

"Well,  sir,  I  have  got  a  bright  idea." 

"  You  don't  say  so,  ma'am  !  " 

"  Don't   be   a  brute,   dear ! "    said   the   lady 
gravely. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  225 

Triplet  stared  ! 

"  When  I  was  in  France,  taking  lessons  of 
Dumesnil,  one  of  the  actors  of  the  Theatre  Fran- 
^ais  had  his  portrait  painted,  by  a  rising  artist. 
The  others  were  to  come  and  see  it.  They  deter- 
mined, beforehand,  to  mortify  the  painter  and  the 
sitter,  by  abusing  the  work  in  good  set  terms. 
But  somehow  this  got  wind,  and  the  patients 
resolved  to  be  the  physicians.  They  put  their 
heads  together,  and  contrived  that  the  living  face 
should  be  in  the  canvas,  surrounded  by  the  acces- 
sories :  these,  of  coui'se,  were  painted.  Enter 
the  actors,  who  played  their  little  pre-arranged 
farce ;  and  when  they  had  each  given  the  pictui'e 
a  slap,  the  picture  rose  and  laughed  in  their  faces, 
and  discomfited  them  !  By  the  by,  the  painter 
did  not  stop  there  :  he  was  not  content  with  a 
short  laugh  j  he  laughed  at  them  five  hundred 
years  !  " 

"  Good  gracious,  Mrs.  Woffington." 

"  He  painted  a  pictui'e  of  the  whole  thing ; 
and  as  his  work  is  immortal,  ours  an  April  snow- 
flake,  he  has  got  tremendously  the  better  of  those 
rash  little  satii-ists.  "Well,  Trip,  what  is  sauce 
for  the  gander  is  sauce  for  the  goose ;  so  give  me 
the  sharpest  knife  in  the  house." 


226  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

Triplet  gave  her  a  knife,  and  looked  confiised, 
wHle  sKe  cut  away  the  face  of  the  picture,  and 
by  dint  of  scraping,  cutting,  and  measm'ing,  got 
her  face  two  parts  thi'ough  the  canvas.  She  then 
made  him  take  his  brush  and  paint  all  round  her 
face,  so  that  the  transition  might  not  be  too  abrupt. 
Several  yards  of  green  baize  were  also  produced. 
This  was  to  be  disposed  behind  the  easel,  so  as 
to  conceal  her. 

Triplet  painted  here,  and  touched  and  re- 
touched there.  "Whilst  thus  occupied,  he  said, 
in  his  calm,  resigned  way,  "  It  won't  do,  madam. 
I  suppose  you  know  that." 

"  I  know  nothing,"  was  the  reply.  "  Life  .is 
a  guess.  I  don't  think  we  could  deceive  Roxa- 
lana  and  Lucy  this  way,  because  theii*  eyes  are 
without  colored  spectacles  ;  but  when  people  have 
once  begun  to  see  by  prejudices  and  judge  by 
jargon,  what  can't  be  done  with  them  ?  Who 
knows  ?     Do  you  ?     I  don't ;  so  let  us  try." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  madam  ;  my  brush 
touched  your  face." 

"  No  oflfence,  sir  ;  I  am  used  to  that.  And  I 
beg,  if  you  can't  tone  the  rest  of  the  picture  up 
to  me,  that  you  will  instantly  tone  me  down  to 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  221 

the  rest.     Let  us  be  in  tune,  whatever  it  costs. 


sir." 


*'  I  will  avail  myself  of  tlie  privilege,  madam, 
but  sparingly.  Failure,  which  is  certain,  madam, 
will  cover  us  with  disgrace." 

''  Nothing  is  certain  in  this  life,  sir,  except  that 
you  are  a  goose.  It  succeeded  in  France  ;  and 
England  can  match  all  Europe  for  fools.  Be- 
sides, it  will  be  well  done.  They  say  Davy, Gar- 
rick  can  turn  his  eyes  into  bottled  gooseberries. 
'V\'ell,  Peer  AVoffinirton  will  turn  hers  into  black 
currants.  Haven't  you  done  ?  I  wonder  they 
have  not  come.     Make  haste !  " 

"  They  will  know  by  its  beauty  I  never  did  it." 

"  That  is  a  sensible  remark.  Trip.  But  I  think 
they  will  rather  argue  backwards ;  that  as  you 
did  it,  it  cannot  be  beautiful,  and  so  cannot  be  me. 
Your  reputation  will  be  our  shield." 

"  Well,  madam,  now  you  mention  it,  they  are 
like  enough  to  take  that  ground.  They  despise 
all  I  do ;  if  they  did  not " 

"  You  would  despise  them." 

At  this  moment  the  pair  were  startled  by  the 
sound  of  a  coach.  Triplet  tui'ned  as  pale  as 
ashes.      Mrs,  Woffington   had   her   misgivings; 


228  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

but  not  clioosing  to  increase  the  difficulty,  she 
would  not  let  Triplet,  whose  self-possession  she 
doubted,  see  any  sign  of  emotion  in  her. 

*'  Lock  the  door,"  said  she,  firmly,  "  and  don't 
be  silly.  Now  hold  up  my  green  baize  petticoat, 
and  let  me  be  in  a  half  light.  Now  put  that 
table  and  those  chairs  before  me,  so  that  they 
can't  come  right  up  to  me ;  and.  Triplet,  don't 
let  them  come  within  six  yards,  if  you  can  help 
it.  Say  it  is  unfinished,  and  so  must  be  seen 
from  a  focus."  » 

"  A  focus  !     I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  No  more  do  I  ;  no  more  will  they,  perhaps  ; 
and  if  they  don't,  they  will  swallow  it  directly 
Unlock  the  door  :  are  they  coming  ?  " 

''  They  are  only  at  the  first  stair." 

''  Mr.  Triplet,  your  face  is  a  book,  where  one 
may  read  strange  matters.  For  Heaven's  sake 
compose  youi'self;  let  all  the  risk  lie  in  one 
countenance.  Look  at  me,  sir.  Make  your  face 
like  the  book  of  Daniel  in  a  Jew's  back  parlor. 
Volto  Sciolto  is  your  cue." 

''  Madam,  madam,  how  your  tongue  goes  !  I 
hear  them  on  the  stairs  :  pray  don't  speak  !  " 

**  Do  you  know  what  we  are  going  to  do  ? " 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  229 

f 

continued  tlie  tormenting  Peggy.  "  We  are 
going  to  weigh  gooses  feathers !  to  criticize  criti- 
cism,    irip 

"Hush!  hush!" 

A  grampus  was  heard  outside  the  door,  and 
Triplet  opened  it.  There  was  Quin  leading  the 
band. 

"  Have  a  care,  sir,"  cried  Triplet ;  "  there  is  a 
hiatus  the  thii'd  step  from  the  door." 

"  A  gradus  ad  Parnassum  a  wanting,"  said 
Mr.  Gibber.    % 

Triplet's  heart  sank.  The  hole  had  been  there 
six  months,  and  he  had  found  nothing  witty  to 
say  about  it,  and  at  first  sight  Mr.  Gibber  had 
done  its  business.  And  on  such  men  he  and  his 
portrait  were  to  attempt  a  preposterous  delusion. 
Then  there  was  Snarl,  who  wrote  critiques  on 
painting,  and  guided  the  national  taste.  The 
unlucky  exhibitor  was  in  a  cold  sweat.  He  led 
the  way  like  a  thief  going  to  the  gallows. 

"  The  picture,  being  unfinished,  gentlemen," 
said  he,  "  must,  if  you  would  do  me  justice,  be 
seen  fr'om  a  —  a  focus  ;  must  be  judged  from 
here,  I  mean." 

«  Where,  sir  ?  "  said  Mr.  Gibber. 


230  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

^' About  here,  sir,  if  you  please/'  said  poor 
Triplet,  faintly. 

"  It  looks  like  a  finished  picture  from  here," 
said  Mrs.  Clive. 

''Yes,  madam,"  groaned  Triplet. 

They  all  took  up  a  position,  and  Triplet  timid- 
ly raised  his  eyes  along  with  the  rest :  he  was  a 
little  sm'prised.  The  actress  had  flattened  her 
face  !  She  had  done  all  that  could  be  done,  and 
more  than  he  had  conceived  possible,  in  the  way 
of  extracting  life  and  the  atmosphere  of  expres- 
sion from  her  countenance.  She  was  "  dead 
still  !  " 

There  was  a  pause. 

Triplet  fluttered.  At  last  some  of  them  spoke 
as  follows  :  — 

SoAPER.  —  Ah ! 

QuiN.  —  Ho  ! 

Clive.  —  Eh ! 

Gibber.  —  Humph ! 

These  interjections  are  small  on  paper,  but  as 
the  good  creatures  uttered  them  they  were  elo- 
quent ;  there  was  a  cheerful  variety  of  dispraise 
skilfully  thrown  into  each  of  them. 
•  "Well,"  continued  Soaper,  with  his  everlast- 
ing smile. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  231 

Then  the  fun  began. 

'^May  I  be  permitted  to  ask  whose  portrait 
this  is  ?  "  said  Mr.  Gibber,  slyly. 

*'  I  distinctly  told  you  it  was  to  be  Peg  Wof- 
fington's/'  said  Mrs.  Clive.  "  I  think  you  might 
take  my  word." 

"Do  you  act  as  truly  as  you  paint?"  said 
Quin. 

"  Your  fame  mns  no  risk  from  me,  sir ! "  re- 
pHed  Triplet. 

"  It  is  not  like  Peggy's  beauty  !  Eh  ? "  re- 
joined Quin. 

"  I  can't  agree  with  you/'  cried  Kitty  Clive. 
"  I  tliink  it  a  very  pretty  face ;  and  not  at  all 
like  Peg  Woffington's." 

"  Compare  paint  with  paint,"  said  Quin. 
"  Are  you  sure  you  ever  saw  down  to  Peggy's 
real  face  ? " 

Triplet  had  seen  with  alarm,  that  Mr.  Snarl 
spoke  not  :  many  satirical  expressions  crossed  his 
face,  but  he  said  nothing.  Triplet  gathered  firom 
this  that  he  had  at  once  detected  the  trick. 
*'  Ah !  "  thought  Triplet,  "  he  means  to  quiz 
them,  as  well  as  expose  me.  He  is  hanging 
back;  and,  in  point  of  fact,  a  mighty  satiiist  like 


2S2  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

Snarl  would  naturally  clioose  to  quiz  six  people 
rather  than  two." 

"  Now,  I  call  it  beautiful ! "  said  the  traitor 
Soaper.  "  So  calm  and  reposeful ;  no  particular 
expression." 

"  None  whatever,"  said  Snarl. 

'*  Gentlemen,"  said  Triplet,  "  does  it  never 
occur  to  you,  that  the  fine  arts  are  tender  violets, 
and  cannot  blow  when  the  north  winds " 

"  Blow  !  "  inserted  Quin. 

"  Are  so  cursed  cutting  ?  "  continued  Triplet. 

"  My  good  sir,  I  am  never  cutting  !  "  smii-ked 
Soaper.  "  My  dear  Snarl,"  whined  he,  "  give  us 
the  benefit  of  your  practised  judgment.  Do  jus- 
tice to  this  ad-mu"able  work  of  art,"  drawled  the 
traitor. 

*'  I  will ! "  said  Mr.  Snarl ;  and  placed  him- 
self before  the  picture. 

"  What  on  earth  will  he  say  ?  "  thought  Trip- 
let. "  I  can  see  by  his  face  he  has  found  us 
out." 

Mr.  Snarl  delivered  a  short  critique.  Mr. 
Snarl's  intelligence  was  not  confined  to  his 
phrases ;  all  critics  use  intelligent  phrases  and 
philosophical  truths.     But  this  gentleman's  man- 


PEG   WOFFINGTON.  233 

ner  was  very  intelligent ;  it  was  pleasant^  quiet, 
assured,  and  very  convincing.  Had  the  reader 
or  I  been  there,  lie  would  have  carried  us  with 
him,  as  he  did  his  hearers ;  and  as  his  successors 
carry  the  public  with  them  now. 

''  Your  bnish  is  by  no  means  destitute  of  talent, 
Mr.  Triplet,"  said  Mr.  Snarl.  "  But  you  are  some- 
what deficient,  at  present,  in  the  great  principles 
of  your  art ;  the  first  of  which  is  a  loyal  adher- 
ence to  truth.  Beauty  itself  is  but  one  of  the 
forms  of  truth,  and  nature  is  our  fiilite  exponent 
of  infinite  truth." 

His  auditors  gave  him  a  marked  attention. 
They  could  not  but  acknowledge  that  men  who 
go  to  the  bottom  of  things  like  this  should  be  the 
best  instructors. 

'"  Now,  in  nature,  a  woman's  face  at  this  dis- 
tance —  ay,  even  at  this  short  distance  —  melts 
into  the  air.  There  is  none  of  that  sharpness ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  a  softness  of  outline."  He 
made  a  lorgnette  'of  his  two  hands ;  the  others 
did  so  too,  and  found  they  saw  much  better  —  O, 
ever  so  much  better !  "  "Whereas,  yours,"  re- 
sumed Snarl,  "  is  hard  ;  and,  forgive  me,  rather 
tea-board  like.  Then  your  chiaro  scuro,  my  good 
20 


234  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

sir,  is  yery  defective  ;  for  instance,  in  nature,  the 
nose  intercepting  the  light  on  one  side  the  face, 
throws,  of  necessity,  a  shadow  under  the  eye. 
Caravaggio,  Venetians  generally,  and  the  Bolog- 
nese  masters,  do  particular  justice  to  this.  No 
such  shade  appears  in  this  portrait." 

*'  'Tis  so,  stop  my  vitals ! "  observed  Colley 
Gibber.  And  they  all  looked,  and  having  looked, 
wagged  their  heads  in  assent  —  as  the  fat,  white 
lords  at  Chiistie's  waggle  fifty  pounds  more  out 
for  a  copy  of  Rembrandt,  a  brown  levitical  Dutch- 
man, visible  in  the  pitch  dark  by  some  sleight  of 
sun  Newton  had  not  wit  to  discover. 

Soaper  dissented  from  the  mass. 

"  But,  my  dear  Snarl,  if  there  are  no  shades, 
there  are  lights,  loads  of  Hghts." 

'*  There  are,"  replied  Snarl ;  "  only  they  are 
impossible,  that  is  all.  You  have,  however," 
concluded  he,  with  a  manner  slightly  supercili- 
ous, "  succeeded  in  the  mechanical  parts  :  the 
hau*  and  the  di-ess  are  well,*  Mr.  Triplet ;  but 
your  Woffington  is  not  a  woman,  nor  nature." 

They  all  nodded  and  waggled  assent ;  but  this 
sagacious  motion  was  arrested  as  by  an  earth- 
quake. 


PEG   WOFFINGTOX.  235 

The  picture  rang  out,  in  the  voice  of  a  clarion, 
an  answer  that  outlived  the  speaker,  "  She's  a 
woman !  for  she  has  taken  four  men  in !  She's 
nature !  for  a  fluent  dunce  doesn't  know  her  when 
he  sees  her !  " 

Imagine  the  tableau  !  It  was  charming  !  Such 
opening  of  eyes  and  mouths !  Gibber  fell  by 
second  natui'e  into  an  attitude  of  the  old  comedy. 
And  all  were  rooted  where  they  stood,  with  sur- 
prise and  incipient  mortification,  except  Quin, 
who  slapped  his  knee,  and  took  the  trick  at  its 
value. 

Peg  Woffington  slipped  out  of  the  green  baize, 
and  coming  round  from  the  back  of  the  late  pic- 
ture, stood  in  person  before  them  ;  while  they 
looked  alternately  at  her  and  at  the  hole  in  the 
canvas.  She  then  came  at  each  of  them  in  turn, 
more  dramatico. 

"  A  pretty  face,  and  not  like  "Woffington.  1 
owe  you  two,  Kate  Clive." 

"  Who  ever  saw  Peggy's  real  face  ?  Look  at 
it  now  if  you  can  without  blushing,  Mr.  Quin." 

Quin,  a  good-humored  fellow,  took  the  wisest 
view  of  his  predicament,  and  burst  into  a  hearty 
laugh. 


236  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

"  For  all  tliis/'  said  Mr.  Snarl,  peevishly,  "  1 
maintain,    upon    the    unalterable    principles     of 

art "    At  this  they  all  bui'st  into  a  roar,  not 

sorry  to  shift  the  ridicule.  "  Goths  !  "  cried 
Snarl,  fiercely.  "  Good  morning,  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen," cried  Mr.  Snarl,  ayec  intention,  "  I  have 
a  criticism  to  write  of  last  night's  performance." 
The  laugh  died  away  to  a  quaver.  "  I  shall  sit 
on  your  pictures  one  day,  Mr.  Brush." 

"  Don't  sit  on  them  with  your  head  downwards, 
or  you'll  addle  them,"  said  Mr.  Brush,  fiercely. 
This  was  the  first  time  Triplet  had  ever  answered 
a  foe.  Mrs.  Woffington  gave  him  an  eloquent 
glance  of  encouragement.  He  nodded  his  head 
in  infantine  exultation  at  what  he  had  done. 

"  Come,  Soaper,"  said  Mr.  Snarl. 

Mr.  Soaper  lingered  one  moment  to  say,  "  You 
shall  always  have  my  good  word,  Mr.  Triplet." 

"  I  will  try  —  and  not  deserve  it,  Mr.  Soaper," 
was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  Serve  'em  right,"  said  Mr.  Gibber,  as  soon 
as  the  door  had  closed  upon  them,  "  for  a  couple 
of  serpents,  or  rather  one  boa  constrictor.  Soaper 
slavers,  for  Snarl  to  crush.  But  we  were  all  a 
little  too  hard  on  Triplet  here ;  and  if  he  will 
accept  my  apology " 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  ^37 

"  Why,  sii-,"  said  Triplet,  half  trembling,  but 
driven  on  by  looks  from  Mrs.  Woffington,  "  ^  Gib- 
ber's Apology  '  is  found  to  be  a  trifle  weari- 
some." 

"  Confound  his  impertinence ! "  cried  the  as- 
tounded laureate.     "  Come  along,  Jemmy." 

^^0  sii* ! "  said  Quin,  good  humoredly,  "  we 
must  give  a  joke  and  take  a  joke.  And  when  he 
paints  my  portrait  —  which  he  shall  do " 

"  The  bear  fi'om  Hockley  Hole  shall  sit  for 
the  head ! " 

"  Ciu'se  his  impudence !  "  roared  Quin.  "  I'm 
at  your  service,  Mr.  Gibber,"  added  he,  in  huge 
dudgeon. 

Away  went  the  two  old  boys. 

"  Mighty  well !  "  said  waspish  Mrs.  Clive.  "  I 
did  intend  you  should  have  painted  Mrs.  Clive. 
But  after  this  impertinence " 

^^  You  will  continue  to  do  it  yourself,  ma'am." 

This  was  Triplet's  hour  of  triumph.  His  ex- 
ultation was  undignified,  and  such  as  is  said  to 
precede  a  fall.  He  inquired  gravely  of  Mrs. 
Woffington,  whether  he  had  or  had  not  shown  a 
spirit  ?  Whether  he  had  or  had  not  fired  into 
each  a  parting  shot,  as  they   sheered  oif?     To 


238  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

repair  wHcIl,  it  might  be  advisable  for  tbem  to 
put  into  friendly  ports. 

"  Tremendous  !  "  was  the  reply.  "  And  when 
Snarl  and  Soaper  sit  on  your  next  play,  they 
won't  forget  the  lesson  you  have  given  them." 

'•'  I'll  be  sworn  they  won't !  "  chuckled  Triplet. 
But  reconsidering  her  words,  he  looked  blank, 
and  muttered,  "  Then,  perhaps,  it  would  have 
been  more  piTident  to  let  them  alone !  " 

"  Incalculably  more  prudent !  "  was  the  reply. 

*'  Then  why  did  you  set  me  on,  madam  ?  "  said 
Triplet,  reproachfully. 

"  Because  I  wanted  amusement,  and  mv  head 
ached,"  was  the  cool  answer,  somewhat  languidly 
given. 

"  I  defy  the  coxcombs !  "  cried  Triplet,  with 
reviving  spirit.  "  But  real  criticism  I  respect, 
honor,  and  bow  to.  Such  as  yours,  madam ;  or 
such  as  that  sweet  lady's  at  Mr.  Vane's  would 
have  been ;  or,  in  fact,  any  body's  who  appreci- 
ates me.  O  madam,  I  wanted  to  ask  you,  was 
it  not  strange  your  not  being  at  Mr.  Vane's,  after 
all,  to-day  ?  " 

"I  was  at  Mr.  Vane's,  Triplet." 

"  You  were  ?     Why,  I  came  with  my  verses. 


PEG   WOFFINGTON.  239 

and  slie  said  you  were  not  there !  I  "will  go  fetch 
the  verses." 

"  No,  no  !     Who  said  I  was  not  there  ?  " 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  ?  The  charming  young 
lady  who  helped  me  with  her  own  hand  to  every 
thing  on  the  table.  What  wine  that  gentleman 
possesses ! " 

"  Was  it  a  young  lady.  Triplet  ? " 

"  Not  more  than  two  and  twenty,  I  should 
say.  ^ 

"  In  a  travelling  dress  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  see  her  dress,  madam,  for  her 
beauty  —  brown  hair,  blue  eyes,  charming  in  con- 
versation   " 

«Ah!     What  did  she  tell  you?" 

"  She  told  me,  madam —  Ahem  !  " 

"  Well,  what  did  you  tell  her  ?  And  what  did 
she  answer  ?  " 

"  I  told  her  that  I  came  with  verses  for  you, 
ordered  by  Mr.  Vane.  That  he  admired  you.  I 
descanted,  madam,  on  your  vu^tues,  which  had 
made  him  your  slave." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Mrs.  Woffington,  encouraging 
him  with  a  deceitful  smile.  "  Tell  me  all  you 
told  her." 


240  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

"  That  you  were  sitting  to  me  for  your  por- 
trait, the  destination  of  which  was  not  doubtful. 
That  I  lived  at  10,  Hercules  Buildings." 

«  You  told  that  lady  all  this  ?  " 

"  I  give  you  my  honor.  She  was  so  kind, 
I  opened  my  heart  to  her.  But  tell  me  now, 
madam,"  said  Triplet,  joyously  dancing  round 
the  Woffington  volcano,  "  do  you  know  this 
charming  lady  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

^'  I  congratulate  you,  madam.  An  acquaintance 
worthy  even  of  you ;  and  there  are  not  many 
such.  "Who  is  she,  madam  ?  "  continued  Triplet, 
lively  with  cui*iosity. 

"  Mrs.  Vane,"  was  the  quiet,  grim  answer. 

"  Mrs.  Yane  ?  His  mother  ?  No  —  am  I  mad  ? 
His  sister  !    O,  I  see,  his " 

"  His  wife  !  " 

"  His  -svife  !    Why,  then  Mr.  Yane's  married  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  0,  look  there  !  —  O,  look  here  now !  Well, 
but,  good  Heavens  !  she  wasn't  to  know  you  were 
there,  perhaps  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  But  then,  I  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag  ? " 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  24:1 

"  But,  good  gracious  !  there  will  be  some  se- 
rious mischief?" 

"No  doubt  of  it." 

"  And  it  is  all  my  fault  ?  " 

^^Yes." 

''  I've  played  the  deuse  with  their  married  hap- 
piness." 

"  Probably." 

"  And  ten  to  one  if  you  are  not  incensed 
against  me  too  ?  " 

Mrs.  Woffington  replied  by  looking  him  in  the 
face,  and  turning  her  back  upon  him.  She  walked 
hastily  to  the  window,  threw  it  open,  and  looked 
out  of  it ;  leaving  poor  Triplet  to  very  unpleasant 
reflections.  She  was  so  angry  with  him,  she 
dared  not  trust  herself  to  speak. 

"  Just  my  luck,"  thought  he.  "  I  had  a  pa- 
tron and  a  benefactress  —  I  have  betrayed  them 
both."  Suddenly  an  idea  struck  him  :  "  Mad- 
am," said  he,  timorously,  "  see  what  these  fine 
gentlemen  are !  What  business  had  he,  with  a 
wife  at  home,  to  come  and  fall  in  love  with  you  ? 
I  do  it  forever  in  my  plays  —  I  am  obliged  — ■ 
21 


242  PEG   WOrriNGTON. 

they  "would  be  so  dull  else ;  but  m  real  life  to  do 
it  is  abominable." 

"You  forget,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Woffington, 
without  moving,  "  tbat  I  am  an  actress  —  a  play- 
tbing  for  tbe  impertinence  of  puppies,  and  the 
treacheiy  of  hypocrites.  Fool !  to  think  there 
was  an  honest  man  in  the  world,  and  that  he  had 
shone  on  me." 

With  these  words  she  turned,  and  Triplet  was 
shocked  to  see  the  change  in  her  face.  She  was 
pale,  and  her  black,  lowering  brows  were  gloomy 
and  terrible.  She  walked  Hke  a  tigress  to  and 
fro,  and  Triplet  dared  not  speak  to  her  :  indeed, 
she  seemed  but  half  conscious  of  his  presence. 
He  went  for  nobody  with  her.  How  httle  we 
know  the  people  we  eat,  and  go  to  chuixh^  and 
flirt  with !  Triplet  had  imagined  this  creature  an 
incarnation  of  gayety,  a  sportive  being,  the  daugh- 
ter of  smiles,  the  bride  of  mhth  ;  needed  but  a 
look  at  her  now  to  see  that  her  heart  was  a  vol- 
cano, her  bosom  a  boiling  gulf  of  fiery  lava.  She 
walked  like  some  wild  creatui-e  ;  she  flung  her 
hands  up  to  heaven  with  a   passionate   despaii*, 

before  which  the  feeble  spirit  of  her  companion 

* 

shrank  and  cowered  ;  and  with  quivering  lips  and 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  243 

blazing  eyes,  slie  burst  into  a  torrent  of  passion- 
ate bitterness  :  — 

"  But  wbo  is  Margaret  Woffington/'  sbe  cried, 
"  that  she  should  pretend  to  honest  love,  or  feel 
insulted  by  the  proffer  of  a  stolen  regard  ?  .And 
what  have  we  to  do  with  homes,  or  hearts,  or 
firesides  ?  Have  we  not  the  playhouse,  its  paste 
diamonds,  its  paste  feelings,  and  the  loud  applause 
of  fops  and  sots  —  hearts  ?  —  beneath  loads  of  tin- 
sel and  paint  ?  Nonsense !  The  love  that  can 
go  with  souls  to  heaven  —  such  love  for  us  ? 
Nonsense !  These  men  applaud  us,  cajole  us, 
swear  to  us,  flatter  us ;  and  yet,  forsooth,  we 
would  have  them  respect  us  too." 

"My  dear  benefactress,"  said  Triplet,  "they 
are  not  worthy  of  you." 

"  I  thought  this  man  was  not  all  dross ;  from 
the  first  I  never  felt  his  passion  an  insult.  O 
Triplet !  I  could  have  loved  this  man  —  really 
loved  him !  and  I  longed  so  to  be  good.  O  God ! 
O  God ! " 

"  Thank  Heaven,  you  don't  love  him  !  "  cried 
Triplet,  hastily.     "  Thank  Heaven  for  that !  " 

*^  Love  him  ?  Love  a  man  who  comes  to  me 
with  a  silly  second-hand  afifection  from  his  insipid 


244  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

baby  face^  and  offers  me  half,  or  two  thirds,  or  a 
third  of  his  worthless  heart  ?  I  hate  him  !  —  and 
her  !  —  and  all  the  world  !  " 

"  That  is  what  I  call  a  very  proper  feeling," 
said  poor  Triplet,  with  a  weak  attempt  to  soothe 
her.  "  Then  break  with  him  at  once,  and  all 
wiU  be  well." 

"  Break  with  him  ?  Are  you  mad  ?  No  ! 
Since  he  plays  with  the  tools  of  my  trade",  I  shall 
fool  him  worse  than  he  has  me.  I  will  feed  his 
passion  fiiU,  tempt  him,  torture  him,  play  with 
him,  as  the  angler  plays  a  fish  upon  his  hook. 
And  when  his  very  life  depends  on  me,  then  by 
degrees  he  shall  see  me  cool,  and  cool,  and  freeze 
into  bitter  aversion.  Then  he  shall  me  the  hour 
he  fought  with  the  devil .  against  my  soul,  and 
played  false  with  a  brain  and  heart  like  mine  ! " 

^^  But  his  poor  wife  ?  You  will  have  pity  on 
her  ?  " 

"  His  wife  !  Are  wives'  hearts  the  only  hearts 
that  throb,  and  bui-n,  and  break  ?  His  wife  must 
defend  herself.  It  is  not  from  me  that  mercy  can 
come  to  her,  nor  fr'om  her  to  me.  I  loathe  her, 
and  I  shall  n6t  forget  that  you  took  her  part. 
Only  if  you  are  her  fr'iend,  take  my  advice,  don't 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  245 

you  assist  her.  I  shall  defeat  her  without  that. 
Let  her  fight  her  battle,  and  /  mine." 

"  Ah,  m^dam  !  she  cannot  fight ;  she  is  a  dove." 

"  You  are  a  fool !  What  do  you  know  about 
women?  You  were  with  her  five  minutes,  and 
she  tui'ned  you  inside  out.  My  life^on  it,  whilst 
I  have  been  fooHng  my  time  here,  she  is  in  the 
field,  with  all  the  arts  of  oui'  sex,  simplicity  at 
the  head  of  them." 

Triplet  was  making  a  futile  endeavor  to  con- 
vert her  to  his  view  of  her  rival,  when  a  knock 
suddenly  came  to  his  door.  A  slovenly  girl,  one 
of  his  own  neighbors,  brought  him  a  bit  of  paper, 
with  a  Hne  written  in  pencil. 

"  'Tis  from  a  lady,  who  waits  below,"  said  the 
girl. 

Mrs.  Woffington  went  again  to  the  window, 
and  there  she  saw  getting  out  of  a  coach,  and  at- 
tended by  James  Burdock,  Mabel  Vane,  who  had 
sent  up  her  name  on  the  back  of  an  old  letter. 

"What  shall  I  do  ?  "  said  Triplet,  as  soon  as 
he  recovered  the  first  stunning  effects  of  this  con- 
tre-temps.  To  his  astonishment,  Mrs.  Woffington 
bade  the  girl  show  the  lady  up  stairs.  The  girl 
went  down  on  this  errand. 


246  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

"But   you   are   here/'    remonstrated   Triplet 
'^  0  !  to  be  sure,  you  can  go  into  the  other  room. 
There  is  plenty  of  time  to  avoid  her/'*  said  Trip- 
let, in  a  very  natural  tremor.     "  This  way,  mad- 
am !  " 

Mrs.  Woffington  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  like  a  statue. 

^*  What  does  she  come  here  for  ? "  said  she, 
sternly.     "  You  have  not  told  me  all." 

"  I  don't  know,"    cried  poor  Triplet,  in  dis 
may  ;  "  and  I  think  the  devil  brings  her  here  to 
confound  me.     For  Heaven's  sake,  retire  !    What 
will  become  of  us  all  ?     There  will  be  murder,  I 
know  there  will !  " 

To  his  horror,  Mrs.  Woffington  would  not 
move.  "  You  are  on  her  side,"  said  she,  slowly, 
with  a  concentration  of  spite  and  suspicion.  She 
looked  fi-ightful  at  this  moment.  "  All  the  bet- 
ter for  me,"  added  she,  with  a  world  of  female 
malignity. 

Triplet  could  not  make  head  against  this  blow ; 
he  gasped,  and  pointed  piteously  to  the  inner 
door.  "  No  ;  I  will  know  two  things  :  the  course 
she  means  to  take,  and  the  terms  you  two  are 
upon." 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.     .  247 

By  this  time,  Mrs.  Yane's  light  foot  was  heard 
on  the  stair,  and  Triplet  sank  into  a  chair. 
"  They  will  tear  one  another  to  pieces,"  said  he. 

A  tap  came  to  the  door. 

He  looked  fearfully  round  for  the  woman  whom 
jealousy  had  so  speedily  turned  firom  an  angel  to 
a  fiend,  and  saw  with  dismay  that  she  had  ac- 
tually had  the  hardihood  to  slip  round  and  enter 
the  picture  again.  She  had  not  quite  arranged 
herself  when  her  rival  knocked. 

Triplet  dragged  himself  to  the  door.  Before 
he  opened  it,  he  looked  fearfully  over  his  shoul- 
der, and  received  a  glance  of  cool,  bitter,  deadly 
hostility,  that  boded  ill  both  for  him  and  his  vis- 
itor. Triplet's  apprehensions  were  not  unreason- 
able. His  benefactress  and  this  sweet  lady  were 
rivals  ! 

Jealousy  is  a  dreadful  passion ;  it  makes  us  ti- 
gers. The  jealous  always  thirst  for  blood.  At 
any  moment,  when  reason  is  a  Httle  weaker  than 
usual,  they  are  ready  to  kill  the  thing  they  hate, 
or  the  thing  they  love. 

Any  open  collision  between  these  ladies  would 
scatter  ill  consequences  all  round.  Under  such 
circumstances,  we  are  pretty  sure  to  say  or  do 


24:8  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

sometMng  wicked,  silly,  or  uni-easonable.  But 
■what  tortured  Triplet  more  than  any  tiling,  was 
Ms  own  particular  notion  that  fate  doomed  him 
to  witness  a  formal  encounter  between  these  two 
women ;  and,  of  course,  an  encounter  of  such  a 
natui'e  as  we  in  our  day  illustrate  by  "  Kilkenny 
cats." 

To  be  sure  Mrs.  Vane  had  appeared  a  dove, 
but  doves  can  peck  on  certain  occasions,  and  no 
doubt  she  had  a  spii'it  at  bottom.  .  Her  coming  to 
him  proved  it.  And  had  not  the  other  been  a 
dove  all  the  morning  and  afternoon  ?  Yet  jeal- 
ousy had  tui'ned  her  to  a  fiend  before  his  eyes. 
Then  if  (which  was  not  probable)  no  colHsion  took 
place,  what  a  situation  was  his  ?  Mrs.  Woffing- 
ton  (his  buckler  from  starvation)  suspected  him, 
and  would  distort  every  word  that  came  from 
Mrs.  Vane's  lips. 

Triplet's  situation  was,  in  fact,  that  of  ^neas 
in  the  storm. 

"  Olim  et  hac  meminisse  juvabit " 


"  But  while  present,  such  things  don't  please  any  one  a  bit,"' 
It  was  a  sort  of  situation  we  can  laugh  at,  and 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  249 

see  the  fun  of  it  six  montlis  after,  if  not  ship- 
wrecked on  it  at  the  time. 

With  a  ghastly  smile  the  poor  quaking  hypo- 
crite welcomed  Mrs.  Vane,  and  professed  a  world 
of  innocent  delight  that  she  had  so  honored  his 
humble  roof. 

She  interrupted  his  compliments,  and  begged 
him  to  see  whether  she  was  followed  by  a  gen- 
tleman in  a  cloak. 

Triplet  looked  out  of  the  window. 

*'  Sir  Charles  Pomander,"  gasped  he. 

Sir  Charles  was  at  the  very  door.  If,  however, 
lie  had  intended  to  mount  the  stairs,  he  changed 
his  mind ;  for  he  suddenly  went  off  round  the 
corner  with  a  business-like  air,  real  or  fictitious. 

"  He  is  gone,  madam,"  said  Triplet. 

Mrs.  Vane,  the  better  to  escape  detection  or 
observation,  wore  a  thick  mantle  and  a  hood, 
that  concealed  her  featui'es.  Of  these  Triplet 
debarrassed  her. 

' "  Sit  down,  madam,"  and  he  hastily  drew  a 
chair,  so  that  her  back  was  to  the  picture. 

She  was  pale,  and  trembled  a  little.  She  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands  a  moment ;  then  recovering 
her  courage,  "  she  begged  Mr.  Triplet  to  pardon 


250  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

her  for  coming  to  him.  He  had  inspired  her 
with  confidence/'  she  said  ;  "  he  had  offered  her 
his  services,  and  so  she  had  come  to  him ;  for  she 
had  no  other  friend  to  aid  her  in  her  sore  dis- 
tress." She  might  have  added,  that  with  the 
tact  of  her  sex  she  had  read  Triplet  to  the  bot- 
tom, and 'came  to  him  as  she  would  to  a  benev- 
olent muscular  old  woman. 

Triplet's  natm-al  impulse  was  to  repeat  most 
warmly  his  offers  of  service.  He  did  so  ;  and 
then,  conscious  of  the  pictui-e,  had  a  misgiving. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Triplet,"  began  Mrs.  Vane,  "  you 
know  this  person,  Mrs.  Woffington  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam,"  replied  Triplet,  lowering  his 
eyes,  "I  am  honored  by  her  acquaintance." 

"  You  will  take  me  to  the  theatre  where  she 
acts  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam  ;  to  the  boxes,  I  presume  ?  " 

"  No  ;  O,  no  !  How  could  I  bear  that  ?  To 
the  place  where  the  actors  and  actresses  are." 

Triplet  demurred.  This  would  be  courting 
that  very  colKsion  the  dread  of  which  even  now 
oppressed  him. 

At  the  first  faint  sign  of  resistance  she  began 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  25  X 

to  supplicate  Hm,  as  if  he  was  some  great  stem 
tyrant. 

"  O,   you  must   not,  you   caimot   refuse   me. " 
You  do  not  know  what  I  risk  to  obtain  tHs.     I 
have  risen  from  my  bed  to  come  to  you.     I  have 
a  fire  here  !  "    She  pressed  her  hand  to  her  brow. 
«  O,  take  me  to  her  !  " 

''  Madam,  I  will  do  any  thing  for  you.  But 
be  advised ;  trust  to  my  knowledge  of  human  na- 
ture. What  you  require  is  madness.  Gracious 
Heavens  !  you  two  are  rivals ;  and  when  rivals 
meet  there's  murder  or  deadly  mischief." 

"  Ah !  if  you  knew  my  sorrow,  you  would  not 
thwart  me.  O,  Mr.  Triplet !  Httle  did  I  think 
you  were  as  cruel  as  the  rest."  So  then  this 
cruel  monster  whimpered  out,  that  he  should  do 
any  folly  she  insisted  upon.  "  Good,  kind  Mr. 
Triplet !  "  said  Mrs.  Vane.  "  Let  me  look  in 
your  face !  Yes  ;  I  see  you  are  honest  and  true. 
I  will  tell  you  all."  Then  she  poured  in  his  ear 
her  simple  tale,  unadorned  and  touching  as  Ju- 
dah's  speech  to  Joseph.  She  told  him  Kow  she 
loved  her  husband  ;  how  he  had  loved  her  ;  how 
happy  they  were  for  the  first  six  months  ;  how 
her  heart  sank  when  he  left  her;  how  he  had 


253  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

promised  she  should  join  him,  and  on  that  hope 
she  lived.  "  But  for  two  months  he  had  ceased 
to  speak  of  this,  and  I  grew  heart  sick  waitiQg 
for  the  summons  that  never  came.  At  last  I  felt 
I  should  die  if  I  did  not  see  him  ;  so  I  plucked 
up  courage,  and  wi'ote  that  I  must  come  to  him. 
He  did  not  forbid  me,  so  I  left  our  country  home. 
O,  sir,  I  cannot  make  you  know  how  my  heart 
burned  to  be  by  Iris  side !  I  counted  the  hours 
of  the  journey  ;  I  counted  the  miles.  At  last  I 
reached  his  house  ;  I  found  a  gay  company 
there.  I  was  a  little  sorry  ;  but  I  said,  '  His 
friends  shall  be  welcome,  right  welcome.  He 
has  asked  them  to  welcome  his  wife.' " 

"  Poor  thing  !  "  muttered  Triplet. 

"  O,  Mr.  Triplet !  they  were  there  to  do  honor 

to ,  and  the  wife  was  neither  expected  nor 

desu'ed.  There  lay  my  letters,  with  their  seals 
unbroken.  I  know  all  his  letters  by  heart,  Mr. 
Triplet.  The  seals  unbroken  —  unbroken  !  Mr. 
Triplet." 

"  It  *  abominable  !  "  cried  Triplet,  fiercely. 

*'  And  she  who  sat  in  my  seat  —  in  his  house 
and  in  his  heart  —  was  this  lady,  the  actress  you 
so  praised  to  n:e  !  " 


PEG   WOFFINGTON.  253 

'f  That  lady,  ma'am/'  said  Triplet,  "has  been 
deceived  as  well  as  you." 

"  I  am  convinced  of  it,"  said  Mabel. 

"  And  it  is  my  painfal  duty  to  tell  you,  mad- 
am, that  with  all  her  talents  and  sweetness,  she 
has  a  fiery  temper;  yes,  a  very  fiery  temper," 
continued  Triplet,  stoutly,  though  with  an  uneasy 
glance  in  a  certain  direction  ;  "  and  I  have  rea- 
son to  believe  she  is  angry,  and  thinks  more  of 
her  own  ill  usage  than  yours.  Don't  you  go 
near  her.  Trust  to  my  knowledge  of  the  sex, 
madam ;  I  am  a  dramatic  writer.  Did  you  ever 
read  the  '  Rival  Queens '  ?  " 

"No." 

"  I  thought  not.  Well,  madam,  one  stabs  the 
other,  and  the  one  that  is  stabbed  says  things  to 
the  other  that  are  more  biting  than  steel.  The 
prudent  course  for  you  is  to  keep  apart,  and  be 
always  cheerful,  and  welcome  him  with  a  smile 
—  and  —  have  you  read  '  The  Way  to  keep 
•him'?" 

«  No,  Mr.  Triplet,"  said  Mabel,  firmly ;   "  I 
cannot  feign.     Were  I  to  attempt  talent  and  de- 
ceit, I  should  be  weaker  than  I  am  now.     Hon- 
^  esty  and  right  are  all  my  strength.     I  will  cry  to 


254  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

her  for  justice  and  mercy.  And  if  I  cry  in  vain, 
I  shall  die,  Mr.  Triplet,  that  is  all." 

"  Don't  cry,  dear  lady,"  said  Triplet,  in  a  bro- 
ken voice. 

"  It  is  impossible  !  "  cried  she,  suddenly.  "  I 
am  not  learned,  but  I  can  read  faces.  I  always 
could,  and  so  could  my  aunt  Deborah  before  me. 
I  read  you  right,  Mr.  Triplet,  and  I  have  read 
her  too.  Did  not  my  heart  warm  to  her  amongst 
them  all  ?  There  is  a  heart  at  the  bottom  of  all 
her  acting,  and  that  heart  is  good  and  noble." 

"  She  is,  madam !  she  is !  and  charitable  too. 
I  know  a  family  she  saved  from  starvation  and 
despaii\  0,  yes  ;  she  has  a  heart  —  to  feel  for 
the  poor,  at  all  events." 

"  And  am  I  not  the  poorest  of  the  poor  ? " 
cried  Mrs.  Vane.  "  I  have  no  father  nor  moth- 
er, Mr.  Triplet ;  my  husband  is  all  I  have  in  the 
world  —  all  I  had,  I  mean." 

Triplet,  deeply  affected  himself,  stole  a  look  at 
Mrs.  Woffington.  She  was  pale  ;  but  her  face 
was  composed  into  a  sort  of  dogged  obstinacy. 
He  was  disgusted  with  her.  "  Madam,"  said  he, 
sternly,  there  is  a  wild  beast  more  cruel  and  sav- 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  255 

age  than  wolves  and  bears ;  it  is  called  '  a  rival/ 
and  don't  you  get  in  its  way." 

At  this  moment,  in  spite  of  Triplet's  precau- 
tion, Mrs.  Vane,  casting  her  eye  accidentally 
round,  caught  sight  of  the  picture,  and  instantly 
started  up,  crying,  "  She  is  there ! "  Triplet 
was  thunderstruck.  "  What  a  likeness  !  "  cried 
she,  and  moved  towards  the  supposed  picture. 

"  Don't  go  to  it !  "  cried  Triplet,  aghast ;  "  the 
color  is  wet." 

She  stopped ;  but  her  eye,  and  her  very  soul, 
dwelt  upon  the  supposed  picture;  and  Triplet 
stood  quaking.  "  How  like !  It  seems  to 
breathe.  You  are  a  good  painter,  sir.  A  glass 
is  not  truer." 

Triplet,  hardly  knowing  what  he  said,  mut- 
tered something  about  "critics,  and  lights  and 
shades." 

"  Then  they  are  blind ! "  cried  Mabel,  never 
for  a  moment  removing  her  eye  from  the  object. 
"  Tell  me  not  of  lights  and  shades.  The  pictures 
I  see  have  a  look  of  paint ;  but  yours  looks  like 
life.  O  that  she  were  here,  as  this  wonderful 
image  of  hers  is.  I  would  speak  to  her.  I  am 
not  wise  or  learned ;  bnt  orators  never  pleaded  as 


256  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

I  would  plead  to  lier  for  my  Ernest's  heart." 
Still  her  eye  glanced  upon  the  picture  ;  and,  I 
suppose,  her  heart  realized  an  actual  presence, 
though  her  judgment  did  not ;  for  by  some  iiTe- 
sistible  impulse  she  sank  slowly  down,  and 
stretched  her  clasped  hands  towards  it,  while  sobs 
and  words  seemed  to  break  direct  from  her  burst- 
ing heart.  "  O,  yes  !  you  are  beautiful,  you  are 
gifted,  and  the  eyes  of  thousands  wait  upon  youi* 
every  word  and  look.  What  wonder  that  he, 
ardent,  refined,  and  genial,  should  lay  his  heart 
at  your  feet  ?  And  I  have  nothing  but  my  love 
to  make  him  love  me.  I  cannot  take  him  from 
you.  O,  be  generous  to  the  weak  !  O,  give  him 
back  to  me  !  What  is  one  heart  more  to  you  ? 
You  are  so  rich,  and  I  am  so  poor,  that  without 
his  love  I  have  nothing,  and  can  do  nothing  but 
sit  me  down  and  cry  till  my  heart  breaks.  Give 
him  back  to  me,  beautiful,  terrible  woman  !  for, 
"wdth  all  your  gifts,  you  cannot  love  him  as  his 
poor  Mabel  does  ;  and  I  v,nll  love  you  longer, 
perhaps,  than  men  can  love.  I  will  kiss  your 
feet,  and  Heaven  above  will  bless  you ;  and  I 
will  bless  you  and  pray  for  you  to  my  dying  day. 
Ah !  it  is  alive  !     I  am  frightened  !     I  am  Mght- 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  257 

ened  !  "  She  ran  to  Triplet^  and  seized  his  arm. 
"  No  !  "  cried  she,  quivering  close  to  him ;  "  I'm 

not  fi-'ightened,  for  it  was  for  me  she O 

Mrs.  WofSngton  !  "  and  hiding  her  face  on  Mr. 
Triplet's  shoulder,  she  blushed,  and  wept,  and 
trembled. 

What  was  it  had  betrayed  Mrs.  Woffington  ? 
A  tear ! 

During  the  whole  of  this  interview  (which  had 
taken  a  turn  so  unlocked  for  by  the  listener)  she 
might'  have  said,  with  Beatrice,  "  What  fire  is  in 
mine  ears !  "  and  what  self-reproach  and  chill 
misgiving  in  her  heart,  too !  She  had  passed 
through  a  hundred  emotions,  as  the  young,  inno- 
cent wife  told  her  sad  and  'simple  story.  But 
anxious  now  above  all  things  to  escape  without 
being  recognized,  —  for  she  had  long  repented 
having  listened  at  all,  or  placed  herself  in  her 
present  position,  —  she  fiercely  mastered  her  coun- 
tenance ;  but  though  she  ruled  her  features,  she 
could  not  rule  her  heart.  And  when  the  young 
wife,  instead  of  inveighing  against  her,  came  to 
her  as  a  supplicant,  with  faith  in  her  goodness, 
and  sobbed  to  her  for  pity,  a  big  tear  rolled  down 
22 


258  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

her  cheek,  and  proved  her  something  more  than 
a  picture  or  an  actress. 

Mrs.  Yane,  as  we  have  related,  screamed,  and 
ran  to  Triplet. 

Mrs.  Woffington  came  instantly  from  her  frame, 
and  stood  before  them  in  a  despairing  attitude, 
■with  one  hand  upon  her  brow.  For  a  single  mo- 
ment her  impulse  was  to  fly  from  the  apartment, 
so  ashamed  was  she  of  ha\TJig  listened,  and  of 
meeting  her  rival  in  this  way  ;  but  she  conquered 
this  feeling,  and  as  soon  as  she  saw  ]\Irs.  *Vane 
too  had  recovered  some  composure,  she  said  to 
Triplet,  in  a  low  but  firm  voice,  — 

"  Leave  us,  sir.  No  Hving  creature  must  hear 
what  I  say  to  this  lady ! " 

Triplet  remonstrated,  but  Mrs.  Vane  said, 
faintly,  — 

"  O,  yes,  good  Mr.  Triplet,  I  would  rather  you 
left  me." 

Triplet,  full  of  misgivings,  was  obliged  to  re- 
tire. 

"  Be  composed,  ladies,"  said  he,  piteously. 
''  Neither  of  you  could  help  it ;  "  and  so  he  'en- 
tered his  inner  room,  where  he  sat  and  listened 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  259 

nervously,  for  lie  could  not  shake  off  all  appre- 
hension of  a  personal  encounter. 

In  the  room  he  had  left,  there  was  a  long,  un- 
easy silence.  Both  ladies  were  greatly  embar- 
rassed. It  was  the  actress  who  spoke  first.  All 
trace  of  emotion,  except  a  certain  pallor,  was  driv- 
en from  her  face.  She  spoke  with  veiy  marked 
courtesy,  but  in  tones  that  seemed  to  fr^eeze  as 
they  dropped  one  by  one  fr'om  her  mouth. 

"  I  trust,  madam,  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to 
believe  I  did  not  know  Mr.  Vane  was  married  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it !  "  said  Mabel,  warmly.  "  I 
feel  you  are  as  good  as  you  are  gifted." 

"  Mrs.  Vane,  I  am  not !  "  said  the  other,  al- 
most sternly.     "  You  are  deceived  !  " 

"  Then  Heaven  have  mercy  on  me  !  No  !  I 
am  not  deceived ;  you  pitied  me.  You  speak 
coldly  now ;  but  I  know  your  face  and  your  heart 
—  you  pity  me  !  " 

^^  I  do  respect,  admire,  and  pity  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Woffington,  sadly ;  "  and  I  could  consent 
never  more  to  communicate  with  your — with 
Mr.  Vane." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Mabel,  "  Heaven  will  bless  you  ! 
But  will  yau  give  me  back  his  heart  ?  " 


260  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

''  How  can  I  do  diat  ?  "  said  Mrs.  "Woffington 
uneasily  ;  she  liad  not  bargained  for  this.    ^ 

"  The  magnet  can  repel    as    well    as    attract 
Can  you  not  break  your  own  spell  ?     What  will 
his  presence  be  to   me,  if  his  heart   remain  be- 
hind ?  " 

"  You  ask  much  of  me." 

"  Alas  !  I  do." 

**  But  I  could  do- even  this."  She  paused  for 
breath.  "  And  perhaps  if  you,  who  have  not 
only  touched  my  heart,  but  won  my  respect,  were 
to  say  to  me,  ^  Do  so,'  I  should  do  it."  Again 
she  paused,  and  spoke  with  difficulty  ;  for  the 
bitter  struggle  took  away  her  breath.  "  Mr.  Vane 
thinks  better  of  me  than  I  deserve.  I  have  — 
only  —  to  make  him  believe  me  —  wortliless  — 
worse  than  I  am  —  and  he  will  drop  me  hke 
an  adder  —  and  love  you  better,  far  better  —  for 
having  known  —  admired  —  and  despised  Mar- 
garet Woffington." 

"  O  !  "  cried  Mabel,  "  I  shall  bless  you  every 
hour  of  my  life."  Her  countenance  brightened 
into  rapture  at  the  picture,  and  Mrs.  Woffington's 
darkened  with  bitterness  as  she  watched  her. 

But  Mabel  reflected.     ''  Rob  you  of  your  good 


PEG   WOFFINGTON.  261 

name?"  said  this  pure  creature.  ^'Ah^  Mabel 
Vane,  you  think  but  of  yourself !  " 

"  I  thank  you,  madam,"  said  Mrs.  Woffington, 
a  little  touched  by  this  imexpected  trait ;  "  but 
some  one  must  suffer  here,  and " 

Mabel  Vane  interrupted  her.  "Tliis  would 
be  cruel  and  base,"  said  she,  firmly.  "  No  wo- 
man's forehead  shall  be  soiled  by  me.  O  mad- 
am !  beauty  is  admii'ed,  talent  is  adored ;  but  vir- 
tue is  a  woman's  crown.  With  it  the  poor  are 
rich ;  without  it  the  rich  are^  poor.  It  walks 
thi'ough  life  upright,  and  never  hides  its  head  for 
high  or  low." 

Her  face  was  as  the  face  of  an  angel  nowj 
and  the  actress,  conquered  by  her  beauty  and  her 
goodness,  actually  bowed  her  head,  and  gently 
kissed  the  hand  of  the  country  wife  whom  she 
had  quizzed  a  few  hours  ago. 

Frailty  paid  this  homage  to  vii'tue  ! 

Mabel  Vane  hardly  noticed  it ;  her  eye  was 
lifted  to  heaven,  and  her  heart  was  gone  there  for 
help  in  a  sore  struggle. 

"  Tliis  would  be  to  assassinate  you ;  no  less. 
And  so,  madam,"  she  sighed,  "  witl^  God's  help^ 
I  do  refuse  your  offer ;  choosing  rather,  if  needs 


262  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

be,  to  live  desolate,  but  innocent  —  many  a  bet- 
ter tban  I  have  lived  so  —  ay  !  if  God  wills  it,  to 
die,  with  my  hopes  and  my  heart  crushed,  but 
my  hands  unstained ;  for  so  my  humble  life  has 
passed." 

How  beautiful,  great,  and  pui-e  goodness  is . 
It  paints  heaven  on  the  face  that  has  it ;  it 
wakens  the  sleeping  souls  that  meet  it. 

At  the  bottom  of  Margaret  Woffington's  heart 
lay  a  soul,  unknown  to  the  world,  scarce  known 
to  herself —  a  heavenly  harp,  on  which  ill  airs 
of  passion  had  been  played ;  but  still  it  was 
there,  in  tune  with  all  that  is  true,  pure,  really 
great  and  good.  And  now  the  flush  that  a  great 
heart  sends  to  the  brow,  to  herald  great  actions, 
came  to  her  cheek  and  brow. 

"  Humble  !  "  she  cried.  "  Such  as  you  are  the 
diamonds  of  our  race.  You  angel  of  truth  and 
goodness,  you  have  conquered  !  *' 

"  O,  yes,  yes  !     Thank  God,  yes  !  " 

"  What  a  fiend  I  must  be  could  I  injui'e  you  ! 
The.  poor  heart  we  have  both  overrated  shall  be 
yours  again,  and  yours  forever.  In  my  hands  it 
is  painted  glass ;  in  the  lustre  of  a  love  like 
yours   it  may  become  a  priceless    jewel."     She 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  263 

turned  her  liead  away,  and  pondered  a  moment, 
then  suddenly  oflfered  to  Mrs.  Yane  her  hand 
with  nobleness  and  majesty  :  "  Can  you  trust 
me  ? "  The  actress  too  was  divmely  beautiful 
now,  for  her  good  angel  shone  through  her. 

"  I  cmild  tinist  you  with  my  life ! "  was  the 
reply. 

"  Ah !  if  I  might  call  you  fi'iend,  dear  lady, 
what  would  I  not  do  —  suffer  —  resign  —  to  be 
worthy  that  title !  " 

"  No,  not  friend !  "  cried  the  warm,  innocent 
Mabel ;  "  sister !  I  will  call  you  sister.  I  have 
no  sister." 

"  Sister  !  "  said  Mrs.  Woffington.  "  O,  do  not 
mock  me !  Alas !  you  do  not  know  what  you 
say.  That  sacred  name  to  me,  firom  lips  so  pure 
as  yours  —  Mrs.  Vane,"  said  she,  timidly,  "would 
you  think  me  presumptuous  if  I  begged  you  to  — 
to  let  me  kiss  you  ?  " 

The  words  were  scarce  spoken  before  Mrs. 
Vane's  arms  were  wreathed  round  her  neck,  and 
that  innocent  cheek  laid  sweetly  to  hers. 

Mrs.  Woffington  strained  her  to  her  bosom, 
and  two  great  hearts,  whose  grandeur  the  world, 
worshipper  of  charlatans,  never  discovered,  had 


264  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

% 

found  each  other  out  and  beat  against  each  other. 
A  great  heart  is  as  quick  to  find  another  out  as 
the  world  is  slow. 

Mrs.  Woffington  bui-st  into  a  passion  of  tears 
and  clasped  Mabel  tighter  and  tighter,  in  a  half- 
despairing  way.     Mabel  mistook  the  cause,  but 
she  kissed  her  tears  away. 

"  Dear  sister,"  said  she,  "  be  comforted.  I  love 
you.  !My  heart  warmed  to  you  the  first  moment 
I  saw  you.  A  woman's  love  and  gratitude  are 
something.  Ah !  you  will  never  find  me  change. 
This  is  for  life,  look  you." 

"  God  grant  it !  "  cried  the  other  poor  woman. 
"  O,  it  is  not  that,  it  is  not  that ;  it  is  because  I 
am  so  little  worthy  of  this.  It  is  a  sin  to  deceive 
you.    I  am  not  good  like  you.    You  do  not  know 


me 


I '» 


"  You  do  not  know  yourself  if  you  say  so  ! " 
cried  Mabel ;  and  to  her  hearer  the  words  seemed 
to  come  from  heaven.  "  I  read  faces,"  said  Mabel. 
"  I  read  yours  at  sight,  and  you  are  what  I  set 
you  down ;  and  nobody  must  breathe  a  word 
against  you,  not  even  youi'self.  Do  you  think  1 
am  bhnd  ?  You  are  beautiful,  you  are  good,  you 
are  my  sister,  and  I  love"  you !  " 


PEG    WOFFIN(iTON.  265 

"  Heaven  forgive  me ! "  thought  the  other. 
"  How  can  I  resign  this  angel's  good  opinion  ? 
Surely  Heaven  sends  this  blessed  dew  to  my 
parched  heart !  "  And  now  she  burned  to  make 
good  her  promise,  and  earn  this  virtuous  wife's 
love.  She  folded  her  once  more  in  her  arms,  and 
then  taking  her  by  the  hand,  led  her  tenderly 
into  Triplet's  inner  room.  She  made  her  lie 
down  on  the  bed,  and  placed  pillows  high  for  her 
like  a  mother,  and  leaned  over  her  as  she  lay, 
and  pressed  her  lips  gently  to  her  forehead.  Her 
fertile  brain  had  already  digested  a  plan,  but  she 
had  resolved  that  this  pure  and  candid  soul 
should  take  no  lessons  of  deceit.  "Lie  there," 
said  she,  "  till  I  open  the  door,  and  then  join  us. 
Do  you  know  what  I  am  going  to  do  ?  I  am  not 
going  to  restore  you  your  husband's  heart,  but  to 
show  you  it  never  really  left  you.  You  read 
faces ;  well,  I  read  circumstances.  Matters  are 
not  as  you  thought,"  said  she,  with  all  a  woman's 
tact.  "  I  cannot  explain,  but  you  will  see."  She 
then  gave  Mrs.  Triplet  peremptory  orders  not  to 
let  her  charge  rise  from  the  bed  until  the  precon- 
certed signal. 

Mrs.  Vane  was,  in  fact,  so  exhausted  by  all 
23 


266  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

she  had  gone  througli^  that  she  was  in  no  condi- 
tion to  resist.  She  cast  a  look  of  childlike  con- 
fidence upon  her  rival,  and  then  closed  her  eyes, 
and  tried  not  to  tremble  all  over  and  listen  hke  a 
frightened  hare. 


It  is  one  great  characteristic  of  genius  to  do 
great  things  with  Httle  things.  Paxton  could  see 
that  so  small  a  matter  as  a  greenhouse  could  be 
dilated  into  a  crystal  palace,  and  with  two  com- 
mon materials  —  glass  and  iron  —  he  raised  the 
palace  of  the  genii ;  the  brightest  idea  and  the 
noblest  ornament  added  to  Europe  in  this  cen- 
tury, —  the  koh-i-nor  of  the  west.  Livy's  defi- 
nition of  Archimedes  goes  on  the  same  ground. 


Peg  "Woffington  was  a  genius  in  her  way. 
On  entering  Triplet's  studio  her  eye  fell  upon 
three  tiifles  —  Mrs.  Yane's  hood  and  mantle,  the 
back  of  an  old  letter,  and  Mr.  Triplet.  (It  will 
be  seen  how  she  worked  these  sHght  materials,  j 
On  the  letter  were  written  in  pencil  simply  these 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  267 

two  words,  "  Mabel  Vane."  Mrs.  Woffington 
wrote  above  these  words  two  morej  "  Alone  and 
unprotected."  She  put  this  into  Mr.  Triplet's 
hand,  and  bade  him  take  it  down  stairs  and  give 
it  Sir  Charles  Pomander,  whose  retreat,  she  knew, 
must  have  been  fictitious.  "  You  will  find  him 
round  the  corner,"  said  she,  "  or  in  some  shop 
that  looks  this  way."  Whilst  uttering  these 
words  she  had  put  on  Mrs.  Vane's  hood  and 
mantle. 

No  answer  was  returned,  and  no  Triplet  went 
out  of  the  door. 

She  turned,  and  there  he  was  kneeling  on  both 
knees  close  under  her. 

"  Bid  me  jump  out  of  that  window,  madam ; 
bid  me  kill  those  two  gentlemen,  and  I  will  not 
rebel.  You  are  a  great  lady,  a  talented  lady  ; 
you  have  been  insulted,  and  no  doubt  blood  will 
flow.  It  ought  —  it  is  your  due  ;  but  that  inno- 
cent lady,  do  not  compromise  her  !  " 

"  0  Mr.  Triplet,  you  need  not  kneel  to  me. 
I  do  not  wish  to  force  you  to  render  me  a  ser- 
vice.    I  have  no  right  to  dictate  to  you." 

"  O,  dear !  "  cried  Triplet,  "  don't  talk  in  that 
way.     I   owe  you  my  life,  but  I  think  of  your 


268  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

own  peace  of  mind,  for  you  are  not  one  to  be 
happy  if  you  injure  the  innocent !  "  He  rose  sua- 
denly,  and  cried,  *^  madam,  promise  me  not  to 
stir  till  I  come  back !  " 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To  bring  the  husband  to  his  wife's  feet,  and 
so  save  one  angel  from  despair,  and  another 
angel  fi'om  a  great  crime." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  are  wiser  than  me," 
said  she.  "  But  if  you  are  in  earnest,  you  had 
better  be  quick,  for  somehow  I  am  rather  change- 
able about  these  people." 

'*  You  can't  help  that,  madam  ;  it  is  your  sex  ; 
you  are  an  angel.  May  I  be  permitted  to  kiss 
your  hand  ?  You  are  all  goodness  and  gentleness 
at  bottom.  I  fly  to  Mr.  Vane,  and  we  will  be 
back  before  you  have  time  to  repent,  and  give 
the  devil  the  upper  hand  again,  my  dear,  good, 
sweet  lady ! " 

Away  flew  Triplet,  all  unconscious  that  he  was 
not  Mrs.  Woffington's  opponent,  but  puppet.  He 
ran,  he  tore,  animated  by  a  good  action,  and 
spurred  by  the  notion  that  he  was  in  direct  com- 
petition with  the  fiend  for  the  possession  of  his 
benefactress. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  ^69 

He  liad  no  sooner  tiu'ned  tlie  corner  than  Mrs. 
"Woffington,  looking  out  of  the  window,  observed 
Sir  Charles  Pomander  on  the  watch,  as  she  had 
expected.  She  remained  at  the  window  with 
,  Mrs.  Vane's  hood  on,  until  Sir  Charles's  eye  in 
its  wanderings  lighted  on  her,  and  then  dropping 
Mrs.  Vane's  letter  from  the  window  she  hastily 
withdrew. 

Su'  Charles  eagerly  picked  it  up.  His  eye 
brightened  when  he  read  the  short  contents. 
With  a  self-satisfied  smile  he  mounted  the  stair. 
He  found  in  Triplet's  house  a  lady,  who  seemed 
startled  at  her  late  hardihood.  She  sat  with  her 
back  to  the  door,  her  hood  drawn  tightly-  dowit, 
and  wore  an  air  of  trembhng  consciousness.  Sir 
Charles  smiled  again.  He  knew  the  sex  ;  at  least 
he  said  so.  (It  is  an  assertion  often  ventured 
upon.)  Accordingly  Sir  Charles  determined  to 
come  down  from  his  height,  and  coui*t  nature  and 
innocence  in  their  own  tones.  This  he  rightly 
judged  must  be  the  proper  course  to  take  with 
Mrs.  Vane.  He  fell  down  with  mock  ardor  upon 
one  knee. 

The  supposed  Mrs.  Vane  gave  a  Httle  squeak. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Vane,"  cried  he,  "  be  not  alarmed ; 


270  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

loveliness  neglected,  and  simplicity  deceived,  in- 
sure respect,  as  well  as  adoration.  Ah. ! "  (A 
sigh.) 

"  O,  get  up,  sir ;  do,  please.     Ah  !  "  (A  sigh.) 

"  You  sigh,  sweetest  of  human  creatui-es.  Ah ! 

why  did  not  a  nature  like  yours  fall  into  hands 

that  would  have  cherished  it  as  it  deserves  ?    Had 

Heaven   bestowed    on   me    this    hand,  which   I 

take " 

"  O,  please,  sir " 


"  With  the  profoundest  respect,  would  I  have 
abandoned  such  a  treasure  for  an  actress  ?  —  a 
Woffington!  as  artificial  and  hollow  a  jade  as 
^er  winked  at  a  side  box !  " 

"  Is  she,  sir  ?  " 

"  Notorious,  madam.  Your  husband  is  the 
only  man  in  London  who  does  not  see  thi'ough 
her.  How  different  are  you !  Even  I,  who  have 
no  taste  for  actresses,  found  myself  revived,  re- 
freshed, amehorated  by  that  engaging  picture  of 
innocence  and  viitue  you  drew  this  morning ; 
youi'self  the  bright  and  central  figui'e.  Ah,  dear 
angel !  I  remember  all  your  favorites,  and  en^ 
them  their  place  in  your  recollections.  Your 
Barbary  mare " 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  271 

"  Hen,  sir  !  " 

"  Of  course  I  meant  hen ;  and  Gray  Gillian, 
his  old  nurse " 

"  No,  no,  no  !  she  is  the  mare,  sir.  He  !  he  ! 
he!" 

"  So  she  is.     And  Dame  —  Dame "  ^ 

"Best!" 

"  Ah  !  I  knew  it.  You  see  how  I  remember 
them  all.  And  all  carry  me  back  to  those  inno- 
cent days  which  fleet  too  soon  —  days  when  an 
angel  like  you  might  have  weaned  me  firom  the 
wicked  pleasures  of  the  town  to  the  placid  de- 
lights of  a  rural  existence  !  " 

«  Alas,  sii' !  " 

"  You  sigh.  It  is  not  yet  too  late.  I  am  a 
convert  to  you ;  I  swear  it  on  this  white  hand. 
Ah  !  how  can  I  rehnquish  it,  pretty  fluttering 
prisoner  ?  " 

"  O,  sir,  please " 


Stay  a  while." 
No !  please,  sir 


"  While  I  fetter  thee  with  a  worthy  manacle." 
Sir  Charles  slipped  a  diamond  ring  of  great  value 
upon  his  pretty  prisoner. 

"  La,  sir,  how  pretty  !  "  cried  innocence. 


272  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

Six  Charles  tKen  undertook  to  prove  that  the 
lustre  of  the  ring  was  faint,  compared  with  that 
of  the  present  wearer's  eyes.  This  did  not  suit 
innocence  ;  she  hung  her  head  and  fluttered,  and 
showed  a  bashful  repugnance  to  look  her  admirer 
in  the  face.  Sir  Charles  playfully  insisted,  and 
Mrs.  Woffington  was  beginning  to  be  a  little  at  a 
loss,  when  suddenly  voices  were  heard  upon  the 
stairs. 

"  My  husband !  "  cried  the  false  Mrs.  Vane  ; 
and  in  a  moment  she  rose,  and  darted  into  Trip- 
let's inner  apartment. 

Mr.  Vane  and  Mr.  Triplet  were  talking  ear- 
nestly as  they  came  up  the  stair.  It  seems  the 
wise  Triplet  had  prepared  a  little  di'amatic  scene 
for  his  own  refreshment,  as  well  as  for  the  ulti- 
mate benefit  of  all  parties.  He  had  persuaded 
Mr.  Vane  to  accompany  him  by  warm,  mysteri- 
ous promises  of  a  happy  denouement ;  and  now, 
having  conducted  that  gentleman  as  far  as  his 
door,  he  was  heard  to  say,  — 

'^  And  now,  sir,  you  shall  see  one  who  waits  to 
forget  grief,  suspicion  —  all,  in  your  arms.  Be- 
hold !  "  and  here  he  flung  the  door  open. 

«  The  devil !  " 


PEG   WOFFINGTON.  273 

"  You  flatter  me  !  "  said  Pomander,  who  had 
had  time  to  recover  his  aplomb,  somewhat  shaken, 
at  first,  by  Mr.  Vane's  inopportune  arrivah 

Now,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  Mr.  Vane  had 
not  long  ago  seen  his  wife  lying  on  her  bed,  to 
all  appearance  incapable  of  motion. 

Mr.  Vane,  before  Triplet  could  recover  his'  sur- 
prise, inquired  of  Pomander  why  he  had  sent 
for  him.  "  And  what,"  added  he,  "  is  the  grief 
—  suspicion,  I  am,  according  to  Mr.  Triplet,  to 
forget  in  your  arms  ?  " 

Mr.  Vane  added  this  last  sentence  in  rather  a 
testy  manner. 

"  Why,  the  fact  is "  began  Sir  Charles, 

without  the  remotest  idea  of  what  the  fact  was 
going  to  be. 

"  That  Sir  Charles  Pomander "  inter- 
rupted Triplet.              * 

"  But  Mr.  Triplet  is  going  to  explain,"  said 
Sir  Charles,  keenly. 

"Nay,  sir;  be  yours  the  pleasing  duty.  But 
now  I  think  of  it,"  resumed  Triplet,  "  why  not 
tell  the  simple  truth  ?  —  it  is  not  a  play  !  She 
I  brought  you  here  to  see  was  not  Sir  Charles 
Pomander  ;  but " 


274  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

**  I  forbid  you  to  complete  tlie  name !  "  cried 
Pomander. 

"  I  command  you  to  complete  the  name  ! " 
cried  Yane. 

"  Gentlemen,  gentlemen !  how  can  I  do  both  ?  '* 
remonstrated  Triplet. 

"  Enough,  sir  !  "  cried  Pomander.  "  It  is  a 
lady's  secret.  I  am  the  guardian  of  that  lady's 
honor." 

"  She  has  chosen  a  strange  guardian  of  her 
honor  ?  "  said  Vane,  bitterly. 

"  Gentlemen  !  "  cried  poor  Triplet,  who  did 
not  at  all  like  the  turn  things  were  taking,  "  I 
give  you  my  word,  she  does  not  even  know  of 
Sir  Charles's  presence  here  !  " 

"  Who  ?  "  cried  Vane,  furiously.  "  Man 
alive  !   who  are  you  speaking  of  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Vane  !  " 

"  My  wife  !  "  cried  Vane,  trembling  with  an- 
ger and  jealousy.  "  She  here  !  —  and  with  this 
man  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  cried  Triplet.  "  With  me,  with  me  ' 
Not  with  him,  of  course." 

"  Boaster  !  "     cried    Vane,    contemptuously 
*'  But  that  is  a  part  of  your  profession !  " 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  275 

Pomander,  irritated,  scornfully  di-ew  from  Ms 
pocket  the  ladies'  joint  production,  which,  had 
fallen  at  his  feet  from  Mrs.  Woffington's  hand. 
He  presented  this  to  Mr.  Vane,  who  took  it  very 
uneasily ;  a  mist  swam  before  his  ejes  as  he  read 
the  words  "  Alone  and  unprotected  —  Mabel 
Vane."  He  had  no  sooner  read  these  words, 
than  he  found  he  loved  his  wife  :  when  he  tam- 
pered with  his  treasm-e,  he  did  not  calculate 
on  another  seeking  it. 

This  was  Pomander's  hour  of  triumph!  He 
proceeded  coolly  to  explain  to  Mr.  Vane,  that 
Mrs.  Wof&ngton  having  deserted  him  for  Mr. 
Vane,  and  Mr.  Vane  his  wife  for  Mrs.  "Woffing- 
ton,  the  bereaved  parties  had,  according  to  cus- 
tom, agreed  to  console  each  other. 

This  soothing  little  speech  was  interrupted  by 
Mr.  Vane's  sword  flashing  suddenly  out  of  its 
sheath;  while  that  gentleman,  white  with  rage 
and  jealousy,  bade  him  instantly  to  take  to  his 
guard,  or  be  run  through  the  body  like  some 
noxious  animal. 

Sir  Charles  drew  his  sword,  and  in  spite  of 
Triplet's  weak  interference,  half  a  dozen  passes 
were  rapidly  exchanged,  when  suddenly  the  door 


276  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

of  the  inner  room  opened,  and  a  lady  in  a  hood 
pronounced,  in  a  voice  whicli  was  an  excellent 
imitation  of  Mrs.  Vane's,  the  word  "  False  !  " 

The  combatants  lowered  their  points. 

"  You  hear,  sir  !  "  cried  Triplet. 

"  You  see,  sir  !  "  said  Pomander. 

"  Mabel !  —  wife  !  "  cried  Mr.  Vane,  in  agony. 
"  0  !  say  this  is  not  true  !  —  O  !  say  that  letter 
is  a  forgery !  Say,  at  least,  it  was  by  some 
treachery  you  were  lured  to  this  den  of  iniquity  ! 
O  !  speak  !  " 

The  lady  silently  beckoned  to  some  person 
inside. 

"  You  know  I  loved  you  !  —  you  know  how 
bitterly  I  repent  the  infatuation  that  brought  me 
to  the  feet  of  another  !  " 

The  lady  replied  not,  though  Vane's  soul  ap- 
peared to  hang  upon  her  answer.  But  she  threw 
the  door  open,  and  there  appeared  another  lady, 
the  real  Mrs.  Vane  !  Mrs.  Woffington  then 
threw  off  her  hood,  and  to  Sir  Charles  Poman- 
der's consternation,  revealed  the  features  of  that 
ingenious  person,  who  seemed  born  to  outwit 
him. 

"You   heard   that   fervent    declaration,   mad- 


PEG   WOFFINGTON.  277 

am  ?  "  said  she  to  Mrs.  Vane.  "  I  present  to  you, 
madam,  a  gentleman,  who  regrets  that  he  ever 
mistook  the  real  direction  of  his  feehngs.  And 
to  you,  sir,"  continued  she,  with  great  di_gnity, 
"  I  present  a  lady,  who  will  never  mistake  either 
her  feelings  or  her  duty." 

"  Ernest !  dear  Ernest !  "  cried  Mrs.  Yane, 
blushing,  as  if  she  was  the  culprit.  And  she 
came  forward,  all  love  and  tenderness. 

Her  truant  husband  kneeled  at  her  feet  of 
course.  No  !  He  said  rather  sternly,  ^'How 
came  you  here,  Mabel  ?  " 

*'  Mrs.  Vane,"  said  the  actress,  "  fancied  you 
had  mislaid  that  weathercock,  your  heart,  in 
Covent  Garden,  and  that  an  actress  had  seen  in 
it  a  fit  companion  for  her  own,  and  had  felonious 
ly  appropriated  it.  She  came  to  me  to  inquire 
after  it." 

"  But  this  letter,  signed  by  you  ?  "  said  Vane, 
still  addressing  Mabel. 

"  Was  written  by  me  on  a  paper  which  acci- 
dentally contained  Mrs.  Vane's  name.  The  fact 
is,  Mr.  Vane  —  I  can  hardly  look  you  in  the 
face  —  I  had  a  little  wager  with  Sir  Charles 
here  ;  his  diamond  ring  —  which  you  may  see 


S78  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

has  become  my  diamond  ring/'  (a  horribly  wry 
face  from  Sii*  Charles,)  "  against  my  left  glove, 
that  I  could  bewitch  a  country  gentleman's  im- 
agination, and  make  him  think  me  an  angel. 
Unfortunately  the  owner  of  l^is  heart  appeared, 
and  like  poor  Mr.  Vane,  took  our  play  for  ear- 
nest. It  became  necessary  to  disabuse  her,  and 
to  open  your  eyes.     Have  I  done  so  ?  " 

"  You  have,  madam,"  said  Vane,  wincing  at 
each  word  she  said.  But  at  last,  by  a  mighty 
effort,  he  mastered  himself,  and  coming  to  Mrs. 
Woffington  with  a  quivering  lip,  he  held  out  his 
hand  suddenly  in  a  very  manly  way.  "  I  have 
been  the  dupe  of  my  own  vanity,"  said  he,  "  and 
I  thank  you  for  this  lesson."  Poor  Mrs.  Wof 
fington's  fortitude  had  well  nigh  left  her  at  this 

"  Mabel,"  he  cried,  "  is  this  humiUation  any 
punishment  for  my  folly  ?  any  guaranty  for  my 
repentance  ?     Can  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

"  It  is  all  forgiven,  Ernest.  But,  O  !  you  are 
mistaken."  She  glided  to  Mrs.  Woffington. 
*'  What  do  we  not  owe  you,  sister  ? "  whis- 
pered she. 

"  Nothing !  that  word  pays  all,"  was  the  reply 
She  then  slipped  her  address  into  Mrs.  Vane's 


PEG   WOFFINGTON.  ^9 

hand,  and  courtesying  to  all  the  company,  she 
hastily  left  the  room. 

Sir  Charles  Pomander  followed ;  but  he  was 
not  quick  enough ;  she  got  a  start,  and  purposely 
avoided  him,  and  %r  three  days  neither  the  pub- 
lic nor  private  friends  saw  this  poor  woman's 
face. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vane  prepared  to  go  also  ;  but 
Mrs.  Yane  would  thank  good  Mr.  Triplet  and 
Mrs.  Triplet  for  their  kindness  to  her. 

Triplet  the  benevolent  blushed,  was  confused 
and  delighted;  but  suddenly  turning  somewhat 
sorrowful,  he  said,  "  Mr.  Vane,  madam,  made  use 
of  an  expression  which  caused  a  momentary  pang. 
He  called  this  a  den  of  iniquity.  Now,  this  is  my 
studio  !     But  never  mind." 

Mr.  Vane  asked  his  pardon  for  so  absurd  an 
error,  and  the  pair  left  Triplet  in  all  the  en- 
joyment which  does  come  now  and  then  to  an 
honest  man,  whether  this  dirty*  little  world  will 
or  not. 

A  coach  was  called,  and  they  went  home  to 
Bloomsbury.  Few  words  were  said  ;  but  the  re- 
pentant husband  often  silently  pressed  this  angel 
to  his  bosom,  and  the  tears  which  found  their 


280  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

way   to    her   beautiful  eyelashes  were  tears    of 

joy- 

This  weakish,  and  consequently  villanous, 
though  not  ill-disposed  person  would  have  gone 
down  to  Willoughby  that  nigl^  ;  but  his  wife  had 
great  good  sense.  She  would  not  take  her  hus- 
band off,  like  a  schoolboy  caught  out  of  bounds. 
She  begged  him  to  stay  while  she  made  certain 
purchases  ;  but  for  all  that,  her  heart  burned  to 
be  at  home.  So  in  less  than  a  week  after  the 
events  we  have  related,  they  left  London. 

Meantime,  every  day  Mrs.  Vane  paid  a  quiet 
visit  to  Mrs.  Woffington  (for  some  days  the  ac- 
tress admitted  no  other  visitor,)  and  was  with  her 
but  two  hours  before  she  left  London.  On  that 
occasion  she  found  her  very  sad. 

"  I  shall  never  see  you  again  in  this  world," 
said  she  ;  "  but  I  beg  of  you  to  write  to  me,  that 
my  mind  may  be  in  contact  with  yours." 

She  then  asked  Mabel,  in  her  half-sorrowfiil, 
half-bitter  way,  how  many  months  it  would  be  ere 
she  was  forgotten. 

Mabel  answered  by  quietly  crying.  So  then 
they  embraced;  and  Mabel  assured  her  friend 
she   was   not   one   of    those   who   change   their 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  281 

minds.      "  It  is  for  life,  dear  sister ;    it   is   for 
life,"  cried  she. 

"  Swear  this  to  me,"  said  the  other,  almost 
sternly.^  *'But  no.  I  have  more  confidence  in 
that  candid  face  and  pure  nature  than  in  a  hu- 
man being's  oath.  If  you  are  happy,  remember 
you  owe  me  something.  If  you  are  unhappy, 
come  to  me,  and  I  will  love  you  as  men  cannot 
love." 

Then  vows  passed  between  them,  for  a  singular 
tie  bound  these  two  women ;  and  then  the  actress 
showed  a  part  at  least  of  her  sore  heart  to  her 
new  sister ;  and  that  sister  was  surprised  and 
grieved,  and  pitied  her  truly  and  deeply,  and 
they  wept  on  each  other's  neck  ;  and  at  last  they 
were  fain  to  part.  They  parted ;  and  true  it  was, 
they  never  met  again  in  this  world.  They  parted 
in  sorrow ;  but  when  they  meet  again,  it  shall  be 
with  joy. 

Women  are  generally  such  faithless,  unscru- 
pulous, and  pitiless  humbugs  in  their  dealings 
with  their  own  sex  —  which,  whatever  they  may 
say,  they  despise  at  heart  —  that  I  am  happy  to 
be  able  to  say,  Mrs.  Vane  proved  true  as  steei. 
She  was  a  noble-minded,  simple-hearted  creature 
24 


282  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

she  was  also  a  constant  creature.     Constancy  is  a 
rare,  a  beautiful,  a  godlike  virtue. 

Four  times  every  year  she  wrote  a  long  letter 
to  Mrs.  Woffington  ;  and  twice  a  year,  in  the 
cold  weather,  she  sent  her  a  hamper  of  country 
delicacies,  that  would  have  victualled  a  small  gar- 
rison. And  when  her  sister  left  this  earthly  scene 
—  a  humble,  pious,  long-repentant  Chiistian  — 
Mrs.  Vane  wore  mourning  for  her,  and  sorrowed 
over  her ;  but  not  as  those  who  cannot  hope  to 
meet  again. 


My  story  as  a  work  of  art  —  good,  bad,  or 
indifferent  —  ends  with  that  last  sentence.  If  a 
reader  accompanies  me  farther,  I  shall  feel  flat- 
tered, and  he  does  so  at  his  own  risk. 

My  reader  knows  that  all  this  befell  long  ago. 
That  "Woffington  is  gay  and  Triplet  sad  no  more. 
That  Mabel's,  and  all  the  bright  eyes  of  that  day, 
have  long  been  dim,  and  all  its  cunning  voices 
hushed.  Judge  then  whether  I  am  one  of  those 
happy  story  tellers  who  can  end  with  a  wedding. 
No  !  this  story  must  wind  up,  as  yours  and  mine 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  283 

must  —  to-morrow  —  or  to-morrow  —  or  to-mor- 
row !  when  our  little  sand  is  run. 

Sir  Charles  Pohiander  lived  a  man  of  pleasure 
until  sixty.  He  then  became  a  man  of  pain ;  he 
dragged  the  chain  about  eight  years,  and  died 
miserably. 

•  Mr.  Gibber  not  so  much  died  as  "  slipped  his 
wind  "  —  a  nautical  expression,  that  conveys  the 
idea  of  an  easy  exit.  He  went  off  quiet  and  gen- 
teel. He  was  past  eighty,  and  had  lived  fast. 
His  servant  called  him  at  seven  in  the  morning. 
"  I  will  shave  at  eight,"  said  Mr.  Gibber.  John 
brought  the  hot  water  at  eight ;  but  his  master 
had  takeii  advantage  of  this  interval  in  his  toi- 
let, to  die  !  —  to  avoid  shaving  ? 

Snarl  and  Soaper  conducted  the  criticism  of 
their  day  with  credit  and  respectability  until  a 
good  old  age,  and  died  placidly  a  natural  death, 
like  twaddle,  sweet  or  sour. 

The  Triplets,  while  their  patroness,  lived,  did 
pretty  well.  She  got  a  tragedy  of  his  accepted 
at  her  theatre.  She  made  him  send  her  a  copy, 
and  with  her  scissors  cut  out  about  half;  some- 
times thinning,  sometimes  cutting  bodily  away. 
But,*lo !  the  inherent  vanity  of  Mr.  Triplet  came 


£84  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

out  strong.  Submissively,  but  obstinately,  lie 
fougbt  for  the  discarded  beauties.  Unluckily,  lie 
did  this  one  day  that  his  patroness  was  in  one  of 
her  bitter  humors.  So  she  instantly  gave  him 
back  his  manuscript,  with  a  sweet  smile  owned 
herself  inferior  in  judgment  to  him,  and  left  him 
unmolested.  » 

Triplet  breathed  fi*eely  ;  a  weight  was  taken 
off  him.  The  savage  steel  (he  applied  this  title 
to  the  actress's  scissors)  had  spared  his  purpurei 
panni.  He  was  played,  pure  and  intact,  a  calam- 
ity the  rest  of  us  grumbling  escape. 

But  it  did  so  happen  that  the  audience  were  of 
the  actress's  mind,  and  found  the  words  too  ex- 
uberant, and  the  business  of  the  play  too  scanty  in 
proportion.  At  last  their  patience  was  so  sorely 
tried  that  they  supplied  one  striking  incident  to  a 
piece  deficient  in  facts.  They  gave  the  manager 
the  usual  broad  hint,  and  in  the  middle  of  Trip- 
let's third  act  a  huge  veil  of  green  baize  descend- 
ed upon  "  The  Jealous  Spaniard." 

Failing  here,  Mrs.  Woffington  contrived  often 
to  befi'iend  him  in  his  other  arts ;  and,  moreover, 
she  often  sent  Mr.  Triplet,  what  she  called  a  snug 
investment,  a  loan  of  ten  pounds,  to  be  repaJd  at 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  285 

doomsday,  with  interest  and  compound  interest, 
according  to  the  Scriptures  ;  and  although  she 
laughed,  she  secretly  believed  she  was  to  get  her 
ten  pounds  back,  double  and  treble.  And  I  be- 
lieve so  too. 

Some  years  later  Mrs.  Triplet  became  eventftJ. 
She  fell  ill,  and  lay  a  dying  ;  but  one  fine  morn- 
ing., after  all  hope  had  been  given  up,  she  sudden- 
ly rose  and  dressed  herself.  She  was  quite  well 
in  body  now,  but  insane. 

She  continued  in  this  state  a  month,  and  then 
by  God's  mercy  she  recovered  her  reason  ;  but 
now  the  disease  fell  another  step,  and  lighted  upon 
her  temper  —  a  more  athletic  vixen  was  not  to  be 
found.  She  had  spoiled  Triplet  for  this  by  being 
too  tame ;  so  when  the  dispensation  came  they 
sparred  daily.  They  were  now  thoroughly  un- 
happy. They  were  poor  as  ever,  and  their  bene- 
factress was  dead,  and  they  had  learned  to  snap. 
A  speculative  tour  had  taken  this  pair  to  Bristol, 
then  the  second  city  in  England.  They  sojourned 
in  the  subui'bs. 

One  morning  the  postman  brought  a  letter  for 
Triplet,  who  was  showing  his  landlord's  boy  how 
to  plant  onions.     (N.  B.  Triplet  had  never  plant- 


286  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

ed  an  onion,  but  lie  was  one  of  your  a  priori  gen 
tlemen,  and  could  show  any  body  bow  to  do  any 
tbing.)  Triplet  beld  out  bis  band  for  tbe  letter, 
but  the  postman  beld  out  his  hand  for  half  a 
crown  first.  Trip's  profession  had  transpked, 
and  bis  clothes  inspired  diffidence.  Triplet  ap- 
pealed to  his  good  feeling. 

He  replied  with  exultation,  that  "  he  had  none 
left."     (A  middle-aged  postman,  no  doubt.) 

Triplet,  then  suddenly  started  from  entreaty  to 
King  Cambyses'  vein.     In  vain ! 

Mrs.  Triplet  came  down,  and  essayed  the 
blandishments  of  the  softer  sex.  In  vain  !  And 
as  there  were  no  assets,  the  postman  marched  off 
down  the  road. 

Mrs.  Triplet  glided  after  him  like  an  assassin, 
beckoning  on  Triplet,  who  followed,  doubtful  of 
her  designs.  Suddenly  (truth  compels  me  to  re- 
late this)  she  seized  the  obdui'ate  official  fi-om  be- 
hind, pinned  both  his  arms  to  his  side,  and  with 
her  nose  furiously  telegraphed  her  husband. 

He,  animated  by  her  example,  plunged  upon 
the  man,  and  tore  the  letter  from  his  hand,  and 
opened  it  before  his  eyes. 

It  happened  to  be  a  very  windy  morning,  and 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  287 

when  lie  opened  the  letter,  an  enclosure,  printed 
on  much  finer  paper,  was  caught  into  the  air,  and 
went  down  the  wind.  Triplet  followed  in  kan- 
garoo leaps,  like  a  dancer  making  a  flying  exit. 

The  postman  cried  on  all  good  citizens  foi 
help.  Some  collected  and  laughed  at  him ;  Mrs. 
Triplet  explaining  that  they  were  poor,  and  could 
not  pay  half  a  crown  for  the  freight  of  half  an 
ounce  of  paper.  She  held  him  convulsively  until 
Triplet  reappeared. 

That  gentleman  on  his  return  was  ostenta- 
tiously calm  and  dignified.  "You  are,  or  were, 
in  perturbation  about  half  a  crown,"  said  he. 
'*  There  sir,  is  a  twenty  pound  note ;  oblige  me 
with  nineteen  pounds,  seventeen  shillings,  and 
sixpence.  Should  your  resources  be  unequal  to 
such  a  demand,  meet  me  at  the  *  Green  Cat  and 
Brown  Frogs  '  after  dinner,  when  you  shall  re- 
ceive your  half  crown,  and  drink  another  upon 
the  occasion  of  my  sudden  accession  to  unbound- 
ed affluence." 

The  postman  was  staggered  by  the  sentence, 
and  overawed  by  the  note,  and  chose  the  "  Cat 
and  Frogs,"  and  liquid  half  trown. 

Triplet    took    his    wife    down   the    road    and 


288  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

sKowed  her  tlie  letter  and  enclosure.     TKe  let- 
ter ran  thus  :  — 

'^  Sir  :  We  beg  respectfully  to  inform  you  that 
our  late  friend  and  client,  James  Tiiplet,  mer- 
chant, of  the  Minories,  died  last  August,  without 
a  will,  and  that  you  are  his  heir. 

'^  His  property  amounts  to  about  twenty  thou- 
sand pounds,  besides  some  reversions.  Having 
possessed  the  confidence  of  your  late  uncle,  we 
should  feel  honored  and  gratified  if  you  should 
think  us  worthy  to  act  professionally  for  yoiu*- 
self. 

"  We  enclose  twenty  pounds,  and  beg  you  will 
draw  upon  us   as  far  as  five  thousand  pounds, 
should  you  have  immediate  occasion. 
We  are,  sir. 

Your  humble  servants, 

James  &  John  Allmitt.'* 

It  was  some  time  before  these  children  of  mis- 
fortune could  reaHze  this  enormous  stroke  of 
compensation ;  but,  at  last,  it  worked  its  way  into 
their  spirits,  and  the'y  began  to  sing,  to  triumph, 
and  dance  upon  the  king's  highway. 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  289 

Mrs.  Triplet  was  the  first  to  pause,  and  take 
better  views. 

"  O  James  !  "  she  cried,  "  we  have  suffered 
much  !  We  have  been  poor,  but  honest,  and  the 
Ahnighty  has  looked  upon  us  at  last !  " 

Then  they  began  to  reproach  themselves. 

"  O  James  !  I  have  been  a  peevish  woman  — 
an  ill  wife  to  you,  this  many  years  !  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  Triplet,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes.  "  It  is  I  who  have  been  rough  and  brutal ! 
Poverty  tried  us  too  hard ;  but  we  were  not  like 
the  rest  of  them  —  we  were  always  faithful  to  the 
altar.  And  the  Almighty  has  seen  us,  though 
we  often  doubted  it." 

'*  I  never  doubted  that,  James." 

So  then  the  poor  things  fell  on  their  knees 
upon  the  pubHc  road,  and  thanked  God.  If  any 
man  had  seen  them,  he  would  have  said  they 
were  mad.  Yet  madder  things  are  done  every 
^'^Y>  by  gentlemen  with  faces  as  grave  as  the 
parish  bull's.  And  then  they  rose,  and  formed 
their  little  plans. 

Triplet  was  for  devoting  four  fifths  to  charity, 
and  living  like  a  prince  on  the  remainder.  But 
Mrs.  Triplet  thought  the  poor  were  entitled  to  no 
25 


290  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

more  tKan  two  tliirds,  and  they  themselves  ougKt 
to  bask  in  a  third,  to  make  up  for  what  they  had 
gone  through ;  and  then  suddenly  she  sighed, 
and  burst  into  tears. 

''  Lucy  !  Lucy  !  "  sobbed  she. 

Yes,  reader,  God  had  taken  little  Lucy! 
And  her  mother  cried  to  think  all  this  wealth 
and  comfort  had  come  too  late  for  her  darling 
chHd. 

"  Do  not  cry.  Lucy  is  richer,  a  thousand 
times,  than  you  are,  with  your  twenty  thousand 
pounds." 

Their  good  resolutions  were  carried  out,  for  a 
wonder.  Triplet  lived  for  years,  the  benefactor 
of  all  the  loose  fish  that  swim  in  and  round 
theatres ;  and  indeed  the  unfortunate  seldom  ap- 
pealed to  him  in  vain.  He  now  predominated 
over  the  arts,  instead  of  climbing  them.  In  his 
latter  day  he  became  an  oracle,  as  far  as  the 
science  of  acting  was  concerned*;  and,  what  is 
far  more  rare,  he  really  got  to  know  something 
about  it.  This  was  owing  to  two  circumstances  : 
first,  he  ceased  to  run  blindfold  in  a  groove  be- 
hind the  scenes  ;  second,  he  became  a  frequenter 
of  the  first  row  of  the  pit,  and  that  is  where 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  291 

the  whole  critic,  and  two  thirds  of  the  true  actor, 
is  made. 

On  one  point,  to  his  dying  day,  his  feelings 
guided  his  judgment.  He  never  could  see  an 
actress  equal  to  his  "WofRngton.  Mrs.  Ahington 
was  grace  personified,  but  so  was  Woffington,  said 
the  old  man.  And  Abington's  voice  is  thin,  Wof- 
fington's  was  sweet  and  mellow.  When  Jordan 
rose,  with  her  voice  of  honey,  her  dewy  freshness, 
and  her  heavenly  laugh,  that  melted  in  along  with 
her  words,  like  the  gold  in  the  quartz.  Triplet 
was  obliged  to  own  her  the  goddess  of  beautiful 
gayety  ;  but  still  he  had  the  last  word  :  "  Wof- 
fington was  all  she  is,  except  her  figure.  Wof- 
fington was  a  Hebe  —  your  Nell  Jordan  is  little 
better  than  a  dowdy." 

Triplet  almost  reached  the  present  century.  He 
passed  through  great  events,  but  they  did  not 
excite  him ;  his  eye  was  upon  the  arts.  When 
Napoleon  drew  his  conquering  sword  on  England, 
Triplet's  remark  was,  "  Now  we  shall  be  driven 
upon  native  talent,  thank  Heaven !  "  The  storms 
of  Europe  shook  not  Triplet.  The  fact  is,  noth- 
ing that  happened  on  the  great  stage  of  the  world 
seemed  real  to  him.     He  believed  in  nothing, 


292  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

■where  tliere  was  no  cm-tain  visible.  But  even  tlie 
grotesque  are  not  good  in  vain.  Many  an  eye 
was  wet  round  liis  dying  bed,  and  many  a  tear 
fell  upon  bis  grave.  He  made  bis  final  exit  in 
tbe  year  of  grace  1799.  And  I,  wbo  laugb  at 
bim,  would  leave  tbis  world  to-day,  to  be  witb 
bim ;  for  I  am  tossing  at  sea  —  be  is  in  port. 


A  straigbtforward  cbaracter  •  like  Mabel's  be- 
comes a  firm  cbaracter  witb  years.  Long  ere  sbe 
was  forty,  ber  band  gently  but  steadily  ruled  Wil- 
lougbby  House  —  and  all  in  it.  Sbe  and  ]\Ir. 
Vane  lived  very  bappily  ;  be  gave  ber  no  fresb 
cause  for  uneasiness.  Six  montbs  after  tbeir  re- 
turn, sbe  told  bim  wbat  burned  in  tbat  bonest 
heart  of  bers,  tbe  trutb  about  Mrs.  "WofEngton. 
Tbe  water  rusbed  to  bis  eyes,  but  bis  beart  was 
now  wbolly  bis  wdfe's  ;  and  gratitude  to  Mrs. 
Woffington  for  ber  noble  conduct  was  tbe  only 
sentiment  awakened. 

"  You  must  repay  ber,  dearest,"  said  be.  "  I 
know  you  love  her,  and  until  to-day  it  gave  me 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  293 

pain ;  now  it  gives  me  pleasure.  We  owe  lier 
much." 

The  happy,  innocent  life  of  Mabel  Vane  is  soon 
summed  up.  Frank  as  the  day,  constant  as  the 
sun,  pure  as  the  dew,  she  passed  the  golden  years 
preparing  herself  and  others  for  a  still  brighter 
eternity.  At  home,  it  was  she  who  warmed  and 
cheered  the  house,  and  the  hearth,  more  than  all 
the  Christmas  fii-es.  Abroad,  she  shone  upon  the 
poor  like  the  sun.  She  led  her  beloved  husband 
by  the  hand  to  heaven.  She  led  her  children  the 
same  road  ;  and  she  was  leading  her  grandchil- 
dren when  the  angel  of  death  came  for  her  ;  and 
she  slept  in  peace. 

Many  remember  her.  For  she  alone,  of  all  ouj 
tale,  lived  in  this  present  century  ;  but  they  speak 
of  her  as  "  old  Madam  Vane,"  her  whom  we 
knew  so  young  and  fi'esh. 

She  lies  in  Willoughby  Church  —  her  mortal 
part ;  her  spirit  is  with  the  spirits  of  our  mothers 
and  sisters,  reader,  that  are  gone  before  us ;  with 
the  tender  mothers,  the  chaste  wives,  the  loyal 
friends,  and  the  just  women  of  all  ages. 


294  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

I  come  to  lier  last,  who  went  first ;  but  I  could 
not  have  staid  by  the  others,  when  once  I  had 
laid  my  darling  asleep.  It  seemed  for  a  while  as 
if  the  events  of  our  tale  did  her  harm  ;  but  it  was 
not  so  in  the  end. 

Not  many  years  afterwards,  she  was  engaged 
by  Mr.  Sheridan,  at  a  very  heavy  salary,  and 
went  to  Dublin.  Here  the  little  girl,  who  had 
often  carried  a  pitcher  on  -her  head  down  to  the 
Liffey,  and  had  played  Polly  Peachum  in  a  booth, 
became  a  lion  ;  dramatic,  political,  and  hterary, 
and  the  centre  of  the  T\it  of  that  wittiest  of 
cities. 

But  the  Dublin  ladies  and  she  did  not  coalesce. 
They  said  she  was  a  naughty  woman,  and  not  fit 
for  them  morally.  She  said  they  had  but  two 
topics,  "  silks  and  scandal,"  and  were  unfit  for 
her  intellectually. 

This  was  the  saddest  part  of  her  history.  But 
it  is  darkest  just  before  sunrise.  She  returned  to 
London.  Not  long  after,  it  so  happened,  that  she 
went  to  a  small  church  in  the  city  one  Sunday  af- 
ternoon. The  preacher  was  such  as  we  have  often 
heard ;  but  not  so  this  poor  woman,  in  her  day 
of  sapless  theology,  ere  John  "Wesley  waked  the 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  ^95 

snoring  churcli.  Instead  of  sending  a  diy  clat- 
ter of  morality  about  theii*  ears,  or  evaporating 
the  Bible  in  the  thin  generalities  of  the  pulpit, 
this  man  drove  God's  truths  home  to  the  hearts 
of  men  and  women.  In  his  hands  the  divine 
virtues  were  thunderbolts,  not  swans'  down. 
With  good  sense,  plain  speaking,  and  a  heart 
yearning  for  the  souls  of  his  brethren  and  his 
sisters,  he  stormed  the  bosoms  of  many  ;  and 
this  afternoon,  as  he  reasoned  like  Paul  of  right- 
eousness, temperance,  and  judgment  to  come,  sin- 
ners trembled  —  and  Margaret  Woffington  was 
of  those  who  trembled. 

After  this  day  she  came  ever  to  the  narrow 
street  where  shone  this  house  of  God ;  and  still, 
new  light  burst  upon  her  heart  and  conscience. 
Here  she  learned  why  she  was  unhappy  ;  here 
she  learned  how  alone  she  could  be  happy  ;  here 
she  learned  to  know  herself;  and  the  moment 
she  knew  herself,  she  abhorred  herself,  and  re- 
pented in  dust  and  ashes. 

This  strong  and  straightforward  character  made 
no  attempt  to  reconcile  two  things  that  an  aver- 
age Christian  would  have  continued  to  reconcile. 
Her  interest  fell  in  a  moment  before  her  new 


296  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

sense  of  riglit.  She  flung  her  profession  from 
her  like  a  poisonous  weed. 

Long  before  this  Mrs.  Vane  had  begged  her  to 
leave  the  stage.  She  had  replied,  that  it  was  to 
her  what  wine  is  to  weak  stomachs.  "  But," 
added  she,  "  do  not  fear  that  I  will  ever  crawl 
down  hillj  and  uni'avel  my  own  reputation ;  nor 
will  I  ever  do  as  I  have  seen  others  —  stand 
groaning  at  the  wing,  to  go  on  giggling,  and 
come  off  gasping.  No  !  the  first  night  the  boards 
do  not  spring  beneath  my  feet,  and  the  pulse  of 
the  pubHc  beat  under  my  hand,  I  am  gone ! 
Next  day,  at  rehearsal,  instead  of  TVoffington,  a 
note  will  come,  to  tell  the  manager  that  hence- 
forth "Woffington  is  herself —  at  Twickenham,  or 
E-ichmond,  or  Harrow-on-the-Hill  —  far  fi.*om  his 
dust,  his  din,  and  his  glare  —  quiet,  till  God 
takes  her  ;  amidst  grass,  and  flowers,  and  char- 
itable deeds." 

This  day  had  not  come  :  it  was  in  the  zenith 
of 'her  charms  and  her  fame  that  she  went  home 
one  night,  after  a  play,  and  never  entered  a  the- 
atre, by  front  door  or  back  door,  again.  She 
declined  all  leave-taking  and  ceremony. 

"  When  a   publican  shuts  up  shop  and  ceases 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  297 

to  diffuse  liquid  poison,  lie  does  not  invite  the 
world  to  put  up  the  shutters  ;  neither  will  I. 
Actors  overrate  themselves  ridiculously,"  added 
she  ;  "  I  am  not  of  that  importance  to  the  world, 
nor  the  world  to  me.  I  fling  away  a  dirty  old 
glove  instead  of  soiling  my  fingers  filling  it  with 
more  guineas,  and  the  world  loses  in  me,  what? 
another  old  glove,  full  of  words ;  half  of  them 
idle,  the  rest  wicked,  untrue,  silly,  or  impure. 
JRougissons,  taisons-nous,  et  par  tons. ^^ 

She  now  changed  her  residence,  and  withdrew 
politely  from  her  old  associates,  courting  two 
classes  only,  the  good  and  the  poor.  She  had 
always  supported  her  mother  and  sister ;  but  now 
charity  became  her  system.  The  following  is 
characteristic  :  — 

A  gentleman  who  had  greatly  admired  this 
dashing  actress,  met  one  day,  in  the  suburbs,  a 
lady  in  an  old  black  silk  gown  and  a  gray  shawl, 
with  a  large  basket  on  her  arm.  She  showed 
him  its  contents  —  worsted  stockings  of  prodi- 
gious thickness  —  which  she  was  carrying  to 
some  of  her  proteges, 

*'  But  surely  that  is  a  waste  of  your  valuable 


£98  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

time/'  remonstrated  her  admirer.     "  Much  better 
buy  them." 

"  But,  my  good  soul,"  repHed  the  representa- 
tive of  Sir  Harry  Wildair,  "  you  can't  buy  them 
Nobody  in  this  wretched  town  can  knit  worsted 
hose  except  Woffington." 

Conversions  like  this  are  open  to  just  suspi- 
cion, and  some  did  not  fail  to  confound  her  with 
certain  great  sinners,  who  have  turned  austere 
self-deceivers  when  sin  smiled  no  more.  But 
this  was  mere  conjecture.  The  facts  were  clear, 
and  speaking  to  the  contrary.  This  woman  left 
folly  at  its  brightest,  and  did  not  become  austere  : 
on  the  contrary,  though  she  laughed  less,  she 
was  observed  to  smile  far  oftener  than  before. 
She  was  a  humble  and  penitent,  but  cheerful, 
hopeful  Christian. 

Another  class  of  detractors  took  a  somewhat 
opposite  ground  :  they  accused  her  of  bigotry, 
for  advising  a  young  female  ftiend  against  the 
stage  as  a  business.  But  let  us  hear  herself. 
This  is  what  she  said  to  the  girl :  — 

"  At  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  I  always  loved 
and  honored  virtue.  Yet  the  tendencies  of  the 
stage   so   completely   overcame    my    good    senti- 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  £99 

mentSj  that  I  was  for  years  a  wortliless  woman. 
It  is  a  situation  of  uncommon  and  incessant 
temptation.  Ask  yourself,  my  child,  whether 
there  is  nothing  else  you  can  do,  but  this.  It  is, 
I  think,  our  duty  and  our  wisdom  to  fly  tempta- 
tion whenever  we  can,  as  it  is  to  resist  it  when 
we  cannot  escape  it." 

Was  this  the  tone  of  bigotry  ? 

Easy  in  fortune,  penitent,  but  cheerful,  Mrs. 
Woffington  had  now  but  one  care  —  to  efface  th» 
memory  of  her  former  self,  and  to  give  as  many 
years  to  purity  and  piety  as  had  gone  to  folly 
and  firailty.  This  was  not  to  be.  The  Almighty 
did  not  permit,  or  perhaps  I  should  say,  did  not 
require  this. 

Some  unpleasant  symptoms  had  long  attracted 
her  notice,  but  in  the  bustle  of  her  profession  had 
received  little  attention.  She  was  now  persuaded 
by  her  own  medical  attendant  to  consult  Dr. 
Bowdler,  who  had  a  great  reputation,  and  had 
been  years  ago  an  acquaintance  and  an  admirer. 
He  visited  her  ;  he  examined  her  by  means  little 
used  in  that  day,  and  he  saw  at  once  that  her 
days  were  numbered. 

Dr.  Bowdler's  profession  and   experience  had 


300  PEG   WOFFINGTON. 

not  steeled  his  heart  as  they  generally  do  and 
must  do.  He  could  not  tell  her  this  sad  news  ; 
so  he  asked  her  for  pen  and  paper,  and  said,  "  1 

will  write  a  prescription  to  Mr.  ."     He  theu 

wrote,  not  a  prescription,  but  a  few  lines,  begging 
Mr.  to  convey  the  cruel  intelligence  by  de- 
grees, and  with  care  and  tenderness.  "  It  is  all 
we  can  do  for  her,"  said  he. 

He  looked  so  grave  while  writing  the  supposed 
prescription,  that  it  unluckily  occurred  to  Mrs. 
WofEngton  to  look  over  him.  She  stole  archly 
behind  him,  and,  with  a  smile  on  her  face,  — 
read  her  death  warrant. 

It  was  a  cruel  stroke !  A  gasping  sigh  bioke 
from  her.  At  this  Dr.  Bowdler  looked  up,  and 
to  his  horror  saw  the  sweet  face  he  had  doomed 
to  the  tomb  looking  earnestly  and  anxiously  at 
him,  and  very  pale  and  grave.  He  was  shocked, 
and  strange  to  say,  she,  whose  death  warrant  he 
had  signed,  ran  and  brought  him  a  glass  of  wine, 
for  he  was  quite  overcome.  Then  she  gave  him 
her  hand  in  her  own  sweet  way,  and  bade  him 
not  grieve  for  her,  for  she  was  not  afraid  to  die, 
and  had  long  learned  that  "  life  is  a  walking 
shadow,  a  poor  poor  player,  who  frets  and  struts 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  301 


\ 


Kis  hour  upon  tlie  stage,  and  then  is  heard  no 


more." 


But  no  sooner  was  the  doctor  gone  than  she 
wept  bitterly.  Poor  soul !  she  had  set  her  heart 
upon  living  as  many  years  to  God  as  she  had  to 
the  world,  and  she  had  hoped  to  wipe  out  her 
former  self. 

"  Alas !  "  she  said  to  her  sister,  '*  I  have  done 
more  harm  than  I  can  ever  hope  to  do  good  now ; 
and  my  long  life  of  folly  and  wickedness  will 
be  remembered  —  will  be  what  they  call  famous ; 
my  short  Hfe  of  repentance  who  will  know,  or 
heed,  or  take  to  profit  ?  " 

But  she  soon  ceased  to  repine.  She  bowed  to 
the  will  of  Heaven,  and  set  her  house  in  order, 
and  awaited  her  summons.  The  tranquillity  of 
her  life  and  her  courageous  spirit  were  unfavora- 
ble to  the  progress  of  disease,  and  I  am  glad  to 
say  she  was  permitted  to  live  nearly  three  years 
after  this ;  and  these  three  years  were  the  happiest 
period  of  her  whole  life.  "Works  of  piety  and 
love  made  the  days  eventful.  She  was  at  home 
now  —  she  had  never  been  at  home  in  folly  and 
loose  living.  All  her  bitterness  was  gone  now, 
with  its  cause. 


302  PEG    WOFFINGTON. 

Evader,  it  was  with  her  as  it  is  with  many  an 
autumn  day.  Clouds  darken  the  sun,  rain  and 
wind  sweep  over  all,  till  day  declines  ;  but  then 
comes  one  heavenly  hour,  when  all  ill  things 
seem  spent.  There  is  no  more  wind,  no  more 
rain.  The  great  sun  comes  forth,  not  fiery  bright 
indeed,  but  full  of  tranquil  glory,  and  warms  the 
sky  with  ruby  waves,  and  the  hearts  of  men  with 
hope,  as  parting  with  us  for  a  little  space,  he 
glides  slowly  and  peacefully  to  rest. 

So  fared  it  with  this  humble,  penitent,  and 
now  happy  Christian. 

A  part  of  her  desire  was  given  her.  She  lived 
long  enough  to  read  a  firm  recantation  of  her 
former  self,  to  show  the  world  a  great  repentance, 
and  to  leave  upon  indehble  record  one  more 
proof,  what  alone  is  true  wisdom,  and  where  alone 
true  joys  are  to  be  found. 

She  endured  some  physical  pain,  as  all  must 
who  die  in  their  prime.  But  this  never  wrung  a 
sigh  from,  her  great  heart ;  and  within  she  had 
the  peace  of  God,  which  passes  all  understand- 
ing. 

I  am.  not  strong  enough  to  follow  her  to  her 
last  hour  ;  nor  is  it  needed.     Enough  that  her 


PEG    WOFFINGTON.  803 

own  words  came  true.  When  the  great  sum- 
mons came,  it  found  her  full  of  hope,  and  peace, 
and  joy  ;  sojourning,  not  dwelling,  upon  earth ; 
far  firom  dust,  and  din,  and  vice  ;  the  Bible  in  her 
hand,  the  cross  in  her  heart ;  quiet ;  amidst 
grass,  and  flowers,  and  charitable  deeds. 

"NON    OMNEM    MORITURAM." 


THE  END 


135,  ®3^asl)fnflton  St.,  aSoston, 

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Tichnor  and  Fields.  21 

BOOKS   PUBLISHED   IN  BLUE   AND   GOLD, 

BY 

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